UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


A    DOCTOR   OF 

THE   OLD   SCHOOL 


DK.    MAC  LUKE 


QfdMooll 


LIB-RARY 

UNIVERSITY   OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1894 

BY 
DODD,   MEAD  &  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1895 

BY 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


All  rig-Jits  reserved 


THE  CAXTON    PRESS 

NEW     YORK 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  GENERAL  PRACTITIONER 13 

THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 51 

A  FIGHT  WITH  DEATH 95 

THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 133 

THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN 169 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Dr.  MacLure    .          .         .         Frontispiece 
Sandy  Stewart  "Napped"  Stones      .         .  15 
The  Gudewife  is  Keepin'  up  a  Ding-Dong  21 
His  House — little  more  than  a  cottage          .  23 
Whirling  Past  in  a  Cloud  of  Dust     .  26 
Will  He  Never  Come?        .         .         .         .28 
The  Verra  Look  o'  Him  wes  Victory  31 
Weeping  by  Her  Man's  Bedside            .         .  33 
For  Such  Risks  of  Life,  Men  Get  the  Victo 
ria  Cross  in  Other  Fields    .          .  35 
Hopps'  Laddie  Ate  Grosarts          .         .  4* 
There  werna  Mair  than  Four  at  Nicht         .  47 
A'  doot  Yir  Gaein'  tae  Lose  Her,  Tammas  53 
The  Bonniest,  Snoddest,  Kindliest  Lass  in 

the  Glen -  57 

The  Winter  Night  was  Falling  Fast         .  59 

Comin'  tae  Meet  Me  in  the  Gloamin'         .  60 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

It's  oot  o'  the  Question.  Jess,  sae  Hurry  up       65 
It's  a  Fell  Chairge  for  a  Short  Day's  Work        68 
The  East  had  Come  to  Meet  the  West         .        7 1 
MacLure  Explained    that   it  would  be  an 

Eventful  Journey.        ...  75 

They  Passed   through   the   Shallow   Water 

without  Mishap          .         <         .       ..       77 
A  Heap  of  Speechless  Misery  by  the  Kit 
chen  Fire  .         .          .          .          .81 

Ma  ain  Dear  Man          ....  85 

I'm  Proud  to  have  Met  You       ...       89 
Gave  Way  Utterly          .          .          .          .  97 

Fillin'  His  Lungs  for  Five  and  Thirty  Year 

wi'  Strong  Drumtochty  Air      .          .          100 
Bell  Leant  Over  the  Bed  .          .          .103 

A  Large  Tub         .....          107 

The  Lighted  Window  in  Saunder's  Cottage     no 
A  Clenched  Fist  Resting  on  the  Bed  .     113 

The   Doctor  was  Attempting  the  Highland 

Fling        .         .         .         .         .          .117 

Sleepin'  on  the  Top  o'  Her  Bed     .          .          119 
A'  Prayed  Last  Nicht         .         .         .         .121 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

I've  a  Cold  in  My  Head  To-night  .  .  123 
Jess  Bolted  without  Delay  .  .  .128 
Comin'  in  Frae  Glen  Urtach  .  .  135 

Drumsheugh  was  Full  of  Tact  .  .  .138 
Told  Drumsheugh  that  the  Doctor  was  not 

Able  to  Rise  .  .  .  '.  141 

With  the  Old  Warm  Grip  .  .  .  145 
Drumsheugh  Looked  Wistfully  ,  .  149 
Wud  Gie  Her  a  Bite  o'  Grass  .  '.  .154 
Ma  Mither's  Bible  .  .  .  156 

It's  a  Coorse  Nicht,  Jess  .  .  .  .160 
She's  Carryin'  a  Licht  in  Her  Hand  .  163 
The  Tochty  Ran  with  Black,  Swollen 

Stream    .          .          .          .          .          .171 

Toiled  Across  the  Glen  .  .  .  173 

There  was  Nae  Use  Trying  tae  Dig  Oot  the 

Front  Door  .  .  .  .  .176 
Ane  of  Them  Gied  Ower  the  Head  in  a 

Drift,   and    His  Neeburs  hed  tae  pu' 

Him  oot -177 

Two  Men  in  Plaids  were  Descending  the 

Hill  181 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Jined  Hands  and  Cam  ower  Fine  .          184 

Twa  Horses,  Ane  afore  the  Ither  .         .      187 

He   had   Left   His  Overcoat,  and  was    in 

Black        .         .         .         ,  .         .     191 

Death  after  All  was  Victor    .         .  .           197 

She  Began  to  Neigh          .         .  .          .199 

They  had  Set  to  Work           .    .      .  .          202 

Standing  at  the  Door         .  203 
Finis            ......           209 


PREFACE 

It  is  with  great  good  will  that  I  write  this 
short  preface  to  the  edition  of "  A  Doctor  of 
the  Old  School "  (which  has  been  illustrated 
by  Mr.  Gordon  after  an  admirable  and  under 
standing  fashion)  because  there  are  two  things" 
that  I  should  like  to  say  to  my  readers,  being 
also  my  friends. 

One,  is  to  answer  a  question  that  has  been 
often  and  fairly  asked.  Was  there  ever  any 
doctor  so  self-forgetful  and  so  utterly  Chris 
tian  as  William  MacLure?  To  which  I  am 
proud  to  reply,  on  my  conscience  :  Not  one 
man,  but  many  in  Scotland  and  in  the  South 
country.  I  will  dare  prophecy  also  across 
the  sea. 

It  has  been  one  man's  good  fortune  to  know 
7 


PREFACE 

four  country  doctors,  not  one  of  whom  was 
without  his  faults — Weelum  was  not  perfect 
— but  who,  each  one,  might  have  sat  for  my 
hero.  Three  are  now  resting  from  their 
labors,  and  the  fourth,  if  he  ever  should  see 
these  lines,  would  never  identify  himself. 

Then  I  desire  to  thank  my  readers,  and 
chiefly  the  medical  professsion  for  the  recep 
tion  given  to  the  Doctor  of  Drumtochty. 

For  many  years  I  have  desired  to  pay 
some  tribute  to  a  class  whose  service  to  the 
community  was  known  to  every  countryman, 
but  after  the  tale  had  gone  forth  my  heart 
failed.  For  it  might  have  been  despised  for 
the  little  grace  of  letters  in  the  style  and 
because  of  the  outward  roughness  of  the  man. 
But  neither  his  biographer  nor  his  circum 
stances  have  been  able  to  obscure  MacLure 
who  has  himself  won  all  honest  hearts,  and 
received  afresh  the  recognition  of  his  more 
distinguished  brethren.  From  all  parts  of  the 
8 


PREFACE 

English-speaking  world  letters  have  come  in 
commendation  of  Weelum  MacLure,  and  many 
were  from  doctors  who  had  received  new 
courage.  It  is  surely  more  honor  than  a  new 
writer  could  ever  have  deserved  to  receive  the 
approbation  of  a  profession  whose  charity  puts 
us  all  to  shame. 

May  I  take  this  first  opportunity  to  declare 
how  deeply  my  heart  has  been  touched  by  the 
favor  shown  to  a  simple  book  by  the  Ameri 
can  people,  and  to  express  my  hope  that  one 
day  it  may  be  given  me  to  see  you  face  to 

IAN  MACLAREN. 

Liverpool,  Oct.  4,  1895. 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER. 


r^vRUMTOCHTY    was    accus- 
*— J     tomed   to   break  every  law 
of  health,  except  wholesome  food 
and   fresh    air,    and    yet   had    re 
duced  the  Psalmist's  farthest  limit 
to  an  average  life-rate.     Our  men 
made  no  difference  in  their  clothes  for  sum 
mer    or    winter,    Drumsheugh    and    one    or 
two    of  the  larger  farmers  condescending  to 
a  topcoat  on  Sabbath,  as  a  penalty  of  their 
position,  and  without  regard  to  temperature. 
13 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

They  wore  their  blacks  at  a  funeral,  refus 
ing  to  cover  them  with  anything,  out  of 
respect  to  the  deceased,  and  standing  long 
est  in  the  kirkyard  when  the  north  wind 
was  blowing  across  a  hundred  miles  of 
snow.  If  the  rain  was  pouring  at  the  Junc 
tion,  then  Drumtochty  stood  two  minutes 
longer  through  sheer  native  dourness  till 
each  man  had  a  cascade  from  the  tail  of 
his  coat,  and  hazarded  the  suggestion,  half 
way  to  Kildrummie,  that  it  had  been  "a 
bit  scrowie,"  a  "scrowie"  being  as  far  short 
of  a  "  shoor  "  as  a  "  shoor  "  fell  below  "  weet." 
This  sustained  defiance  of  the  elements 
provoked  occasional  judgments  in  the  shape 
of  a  "  hoast "  (cough),  and  the  head  of  the 
house  was  then  exhorted  by  his  women  folk 
to  "  change  his  feet "  if  he  had  happened 
to  walk  through  a  burn  on  his  way  home, 
and  was  pestered  generally  with  sanitary 
precautions.  It  is  right  to  add  that  the 


SANDY  STEWART  "NAPPED"   STONES 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

gudeman  treated  such  advice  with  con 
tempt,  regarding  it  as  suitable  for  the  effem 
inacy  of  towns,  but  not  seriously  intended 
for  Drumtochty.  Sandy  Stewart  "  napped  " 
stones  on  the  road  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  wet  or 
fair,  summer  and  winter,  till  he  was  persuaded 
to  retire  from  active  duty  at  eighty-five,  and 
he  spent  ten  years  more  in  regretting  his  has 
tiness  and  criticising  his  successor.  The 
ordinary  course  of  life,  with  fine  air  and  con 
tented  minds,  was  to  do  a  full  share  of 
work  till  seventy,  and  then  to  look  after 
"orra"  jobs  well  into  the  eighties,  and  to 
"  slip  awa  "  within  sight  of  ninety.  Persons 
above  ninety  were  understood  to  be  acquitting 
themselves  with  credit,  and  assumed  airs  of 
authority,  brushing  aside  the  opinions  of 
seventy  as  immature,  and  confirming  their 
conclusions  with  illustrations  drawn  from  the 
end  of  last  century. 

When   Hillocks'  brother  so   far  forgot  him- 
17 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

self  as  to  "  slip  awa "  at  sixty,  that  worthy 
man  was  scandalized,  and  offered  laboured 
explanations  at  the  "  beerial." 

"  It's  an  awfu'  business  ony  wy  ye  look  at  it, 
an'  a  sair  trial  tae  us  a'.  A'  never  heard  tell 
o'  sic  a  thing  in  oor  family  afore,  an'  it's  no 
easy  accoontin'  for't. 

"  The  gudewife  was  sayin'  he  wes  never  the 
same  sin'  a  weet  nicht  he  lost  himsel  on  the 
muir  and  slept  below  a  bush ;  but  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  A'm  thinkin'  he 
sappit  his  constitution  thae  twa  years  he  wes 
grieve  aboot  England.  That  wes  thirty  years 
syne,  but  ye're  never  the  same  aifter  thae  for 
eign  climates." 

Drumtochty  listened  patiently  to  Hillocks' 
apology,  but  was  not  satisfied. 

"  It's  clean  havers  about  the  muir.  Losh 
keep's,  we've  a'  sleepit  oot  and  never  been  a 
hair  the  waur. 

"A*  admit  that  England  micht  hae  dune  the 
18 

i 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

job;  it's  no  cannie  stravagin'  yon  wyfrae  place 
tae  place,  but  Drums  never  complained  tae 
me  if  he  bed  been  nippit  in  the  Sooth." 

The  parish  had,  in  fact,  lost  confidence  in 
Drums  after  his  wayward  experiment  with  a 
potato-digging  machine,  which  turned  out  a 
lamentable  failure,  and  his  premature  depar 
ture  confirmed  our  vague  impression  of  his 
character. 

"  He's  awa  noo,"  Drumsheugh  summed  up, 
after  opinion  had  time  to  form ;  "  an'  there 
were  waur  fouk  than  Drums,  but  there's  nae 
doot  he  was  a  wee  flichty." 

When  illness  had  the  audacity  to  attack  a 
Drumtochty  man,  it  was  described  as  a 
"  whup,"  and  was  treated  by  the  men  with  a 
fine  negligence.  Hillocks  was  sitting  in  the 
post-office  one  afternoon  when  I  looked  in  for 
my  letters,  and  the  right  side  of  his  face  was 
blazing  red.  His  subject  of  discourse  was  the 
prospects  of  the  turnip  "  breer,"  but  he  casu- 
19 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

ally  explained  that  he  was  waiting  for  medical 
advice. 

"  The  gudewife  is  keepin'  up  a  ding-dong 
frae  mornin'  till  nicht  aboot  ma  face,  and  a'm 
fair  deaved  (deafened),  so  a'm  watchin'  for 
MacLure  tae  get  a  bottle  as  he  comes  wast ; 
yon's  him  noo." 

The  doctor  made  his  diagnosis  from  horse 
back  on  sight,  and  stated  the  result  with  that 
admirable  clearness  which  endeared  him  to 
Drumtochty. 

"  Confoond  ye,  Hillocks,  what  are  ye  ploit- 
erin'  aboot  here  for  in  the  weet  wi'  a  face  like 
a  boiled  beet  ?  Div  ye  no  ken  that  ye've  a 
titch  o'  the  rose  (erysipelas),  and  ocht  tae  be 
in  the  hoose  ?  Gae  hame  wi'  ye  afore  a' 
leave  the  bit,  and  send  a  haflin  for  some  medi 
cine.  Ye  donnerd  idiot,  are  ye  ettlin  tae  fol 
low  Drums  afore  yir  time  ?  "  And  the  medical 
attendant  of  Drumtochty  continued  his  invec 
tive  till  Hillocks  started,  and  still  pursued  his 

20 


THE   GUDEWIFE   IS   KEEPIN*    UP   A   DING-DONG" 

21 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 


retreating  figure  with  medical  directions  of  a 

simple  and  practical  character. 

"  A'm  watchin',  an' 
peety  ye  if  ye  pit  aff 
time.  Keep  yir  bed  the 


mornin',    and 

dinna     show 

yir  face  in  the 

fields     till    a' 

see   ye.     A'll 

gie   ye  a  cry   on   Monday 

— sic    an    auld     fule — but 

there's     no    ane    o'    them 

tae    mind    anither    in    the    hale   pairish." 

Hillocks'  wife   informed   the   kirkyaird  that 
the  doctor  "  gied  the  gudeman  an  awfu'  clear- 
in',"   and  that    Hillocks    "  wes     keepin'    the 
23 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

hoose,"  which  meant  that  the  patient  had  tea 
breakfast,  and  at  that  time  was  wandering 
about  the  farm  buildings  in  an  easy  undress 
with  his  head  in  a  plaid. 

It  was  impossible  for  a  doctor  to  earn  even 
the  most  modest  competence  from  a  people  of 
such  scandalous  health,  and  so  MacLure  had 
annexed  neighbouring  parishes.  His  house — 
little  more  than  a  cottage — stood  on  the  road 
side  among  the  pines  towards  the  head  of  our 
Glen,  and  from  this  base  of  operations  he 
dominated  the  wild  glen  that  broke  the  wall 
of  the  Grampians  above  Drumtochty — where 
the  snow  drifts  were  twelve  feet  deep  in  win 
ter,  and  the  only  way  of  passage  at  times  was 
the  channel  of  the  river — and  the  moorland 
district  westwards  till  he  came  to  the  Dunleith 
sphere  of  influence,  where  there  were  four  doc 
tors  and  a  hydropathic.  Drumtochty  in  its 
length,  which  was  eight  miles,  and  its  breadth, 
which  was  four,  lay  in  his  hand ;  besides  a 
24 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

/ 

glen  behind,  unknown  to  the  world,  which  in 
the  night  time  he  visited  at  the  risk  of  life,  for 
the  way  thereto  was  across  the  big  moor  with 
its  peat  holes  and  treacherous  bogs.  And  he 
held  the  land  eastwards  towards  Muirtown  so 
far  as  Geordie,  the  Drumtochty  post,  travelled 
every  day,  and  could  carry  word  that  the  doc 
tor  was  wanted.  He  did  his  best  for  the  need 
of  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  this  wild, 
straggling  district,  year  in,  year  out,  in  the 
snow  and  in  the  heat,  in  the  dark  and  in  the 
light,  without  rest,  and  without  holiday  for 
forty  years. 

One  horse  could  not  do  the  work  of  this 
man,  but  we  liked  best  to  see  him  on  his  old 
white  mare,  who  died  the  week  after  her  mas 
ter,  and  the  passing  of  the  two  did  our  hearts 
good.  It  was  not  that  he  rode  beautifully, 
for  he  broke  every  canon  of  art,  flying  with 
his  arms,  stooping  till  he  seemed  to  be  speak 
ing  into  Jess's  ears,  and  rising  in  the  saddle 
25 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 


beyond    all    necessity.     But    he    could    rise 

faster,  stay   longer   in   the  saddle,  and   had  a 

firmer  grip  with  his  knees  than  any  one  I  ever 

26 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

met,  and  it  was  all  for  mercy's  sake.  When 
the  reapers  in  harvest  time  saw  a  figure  whirl 
ing  past  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  or  the  family  at 
the  foot  of  Glen  Urtach,  gathered  round  the 
fire  on  a  winter's  night,  heard  the  rattle 
of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  road,  or  the 
shepherds,  out  after  the  sheep,  traced  a 
black  speck  moving  across  the  snow  to  the 
upper  glen,  they  knew  it  was  the  doctor, 
and,  without  being  conscious  of  it,  wished 
him  God  speed. 

Before  and  behind  his  saddle  were  strapped 
the  instruments  and  medicines  the  doctor 
might  want,  for  he  never  knew  what  was  be 
fore  him.  There  were  no  specialists  in  Drum- 
tochty,  so  this  man  had  to  do  everything  as 
best  be  could,  and  as  quickly.  He  was  chest 
doctor  and  doctor  for  every  other  organ  as  well; 
he  was  accoucheur  and  surgeon ;  he  was  ocu 
list  and  aurist;  he  was  dentist  and  chloro- 
formist,  besides  being  chemist  and  druggist. 
27 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 


It     was     often    told     how  111    \. 

he  was    far    up   Glen    Ur- 
tach  when   the  feeders    of 
the  threshing  mill   caught 
young  Btirnbrae,  and  how 
he  only  stopped  to  change 
horses    at    his    house, 
and    galloped    all    the 
way  to  B umbrae,   and 
flung    himself   off    his 
horse    and    amputated 
the    arm,    and     saved 
the  lad's  life. 
"  You  wud 
hae  thocht 
that  every 
meenut 
was  an 

hour,"  said  Jamie  Soutar,  who  had    been  at 

the  threshing,  "  an'  a'll  never  forget  the  puir 

lad  lying  as  white  as  deith   on  the  floor   o' 

28 


A    GENERAL   PRACTITIONER 

the  loft,  wi'  his  head  on  a  sheaf,  an'  Burn- 
brae  haudin'  the  bandage  ticht  an'  prayin' 
a'  the  while,  and  the  mither  greetin'  in  the 
corner. 

" '  Will  he  never  come  ? '  she  cries,  an'  a* 
heard  the  soond  o'  the  horse's  feet  on  the 
road  a  mile  awa  in  the  frosty  air. 

"  '  The  Lord  be  praised ! '  said  Burnbrae, 
and  a'  slippit  doon  the  ladder  as  the  doctor 
came  skelpin'  intae  the  close,  the  foam  fleein' 
frae  his  horse's  mooth. 

" '  Whar  is  he  ?  '  wes  a'  that  passed  his  lips, 
an'  in  five  meenuts  he  hed  him  on  the  feedin' 
board,  and  wes  at  his  wark — sic  wark,  neeburs 
— but  he  did  it  weel.  An'  ae  thing  a'  thocht 
rael  thochtfu'  o'  him  :  he  first  sent  afif  the  lad 
die's  mither  tae  get  a  bed  ready. 

" '  Noo  that's  feenished,  and  his  constitution 

'ill  dae  the  rest,'  and  he  carried  the  lad  doon 

the  ladder  in  his  airms  like  a  bairn,  and  laid 

him  in  his  bed,  and  waits  aside  him  till  he  wes 

29 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

sleepin',  and  then  says  he :  '  Burnbrae,  yir  a 
gey  lad  never  tae  say  '  Collie,  will  yelick?" 
for  a'  hevna  tasted  meat  for  saxteen  hoors.' 

"  It  was  michty  tae  see  him  come  intae  the 
yaird  that  day,  neeburs ;  the  verra  look  o'  him 
wes  victory." 

Jamie's  cynicism  slipped  off  in  the  enthusi 
asm  of  this  reminiscence,  and  he  expressed  the 
feeling  of  Drumtochty.  No  one  sent  for  Mac- 
Lure  save  in  great  straits,  and  the  sight  of  him 
put  courage  in  sinking  hearts.  But  this  was 
not  by  the  grace  of  his  appearance,  or  the  ad 
vantage  of  a  good  bedside  manner.  A  tall, 
gaunt,  loosely  made  man,  without  an  ounce  of 
superfluous  flesh  on  his  body,  his  face  burned 
a  dark  brick  color  by  constant  exposure  to  the 
weather,  red  hair  and  beard  turning  grey,  hon 
est  blue  eyes  that  look  you  ever  in  the  face, 
huge  hands  with  wrist  bones  like  the  shank  of 
a  ham,  and  a  voice  that  hurled  his  salutations 
across  two  fields,  he  suggested  the  moor  rather 
30 


1  THE   VEKKA    LOOK   o'    HIM   WES   VICTORY ' 
31 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 


than     the    drawing-room. 
But    what   a  clever  hand 
it    was    in    an    operation, 
as  delicate  as  a  woman's, 
and  what  a  kindly  voice  it 
was  in  the  humble  room 
where  the  shepherd's  wife 
was  weeping  by  her  man's 
bedside.     He   was   "  ill 
pitten    the- 
gither"    to 
begin    with, 
but  many  of 
his  physical 
defects  were 
the  penalties 
of  his  work, 
and   endear 
ed     him    to 
the     Glen. 
That     ugly 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

scar  that  cut  into  his  right  eyebrow  and 
gave  him  such  a  sinister  expression,  was  got 
one  night  Jess  slipped  on  the  ice  and  laid  him 
insensible  eight  miles  from  home.  His  limp 
marked  the  big  snowstorm  in  the  fifties,  when 
his  horse  missed  the  road  in  Glen  Urtach,  and 
they  rolled  together  in  a  drift.  MacLure 
escaped  with  a  broken  leg  and  the  fracture  of 
three  ribs,  but  he  never  walked  like  other  men 
again.  He  could  not  swing  himself  into  the 
saddle  without  making  two  attempts  and  hold 
ing  Jess's  mane.  Neither  can  you  "  warstle  " 
through  the  peat  bogs  and  snow  drifts  for  forty 
winters  without  a  touch  of  rheumatism.  But 
they  were  honorable  scars,  and  for  such  risks 
of  life  men  get  the  Victoria  Cross  in  other 
fields. 

MacLure   got   nothing  but    the    secret    af 
fection    of  the  Glen,    which  knew  that  none 
had  ever  done  one-tenth  as  much  for  it  as  this 
ungainly,  twisted,  battered  figure,  and  I  have 
34 


FOR  SUCH  RISKS  OF  LIFE  MEN  GET  THE  VICTORIA  CROSS  IN  OTHER 
FIELDS" 


A    GENERAL   PRACTITIONER 

seen  a  Drumtochty  face  soften  at  the  sight  of 
MacLure  limping  to  his  horse. 

Mr.  Hopps  earned  the  ill-will  of  the  Glen  for 
ever  by  criticising  the  doctor's  dress,  but  indeed 
it  would  have  filled  any  townsman  with  amaze 
ment.     Black  he  wore  once  a  year,  on  Sacra 
ment  Sunday,  and,  if  possible,  at  a  funeral ; 
topcoat  or  waterproof  never,     His  jacket  and 
waistcoat  were  rough  homespun  of  Glen  Ur- 
tach  wool,  which  threw  off  the  wet  like  a  duck's 
back,  and  below  he  was  clad  in  shepherd's  tar 
tan  trousers,  which  disappeared  into  unpolished 
riding  boots.     His  shirt  was  grey  flannel,  and 
he  was  uncertain  about  a  collar,  but  certain  as 
to  a  tie  which  he  never  had,  his  beard  doing 
instead,  and  his  hat  was  soft  felt  of  four  colors 
and  seven  different  shapes.     His  point  of  dis 
tinction   in   dress  was  the  trousers,  and   they 
were  the  subject  of  unending  speculation. 

"  Some  threep  that  he's  worn  thae  eedentical 
pair  the  last  twenty  year,  an'  a'  mind  masel 
37 


A    DOCTOR    OF    THE   OLD    SCHOOL 

him  gettin'  a  tear  ahint,  when  he  was  crossin' 
oor  palin',  and  the  mend's  still  veesible. 

"  Ithers  declare  'at  he's  got  a  wab  o'  claith, 
and  lies  a  new  pair  made  in  Muirtown  aince  in 
the  twa  year  maybe,  and  keeps  them  in  the 
garden  till  the  new  look  wears  aff. 

"  For  ma  ain  pairt,"  Soutar  used  to  declare, 
"  a'  canna  mak  up  my  mind,  but  there's  ae 
thing  sure,  the  Glen  wud  not  like  tae  see  him 
withoot  them  :  it  wud  be  a  shock  tae  con 
fidence.  There's  no  muckle  o'  the  check  left, 
but  ye  can  aye  tell  it,  and  when  ye  see  thae 
breeks  comin'  in  ye  ken  that  if  human  pooer 
can  save  yir  bairn's  life  it  'ill  be  dune." 

The  confidence  of  the  Glen — and  tributary 
states — was  unbounded,  and  rested  partly  on 
long  experience  of  the  doctor's  resources,  and 
partly  on  his  hereditary  connection. 

"  His  father  was  here  afore  him,"  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  used  to  explain  ;  "  atween  them  they've 
hed  the  countyside  for  weel  on  tae  a  century ; 
38 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

if  MacLure  disna  understand  oor  constitution, 
wha  dis,  a'  wud  like  tae  ask  ?  " 

For  Drumtochty  had  its  own  constitution 
and  a  special  throat  disease,  as  became  a  parish 
which  was  quite  self-contained  between  the 
woods  and  the  hills,  and  not  dependent  on  the 
lowlands  either  for  its  diseases  or  its  doctors. 

"  He's  a  skilly  man,  Doctor  MacLure,"  con 
tinued  my  friend  Mrs.  Macfayden,  whose  judg 
ment  on  sermons  or  anything  else  was  seldom 
at  fault ;  "  an'  a  kind-hearted,  though  o'  coorse 
he  hes  his  faults  like  us  a',  an'  he  disna  tribble 
the  Kirk  often. 

"  He  aye  can  tell  what's  wrang  wi'  a  body, 
an'  maistly  he  can  put  ye  richt,  and  there's 
nae  new-fangled  wys  wi'  him :  a  blister  for  the 
ootside  an'  Epsom  salts  for  the  inside  dis  his 
wark,  an'  they  say  there's  no  an  herb  on  the 
hills  he  disna  ken. 

"  If  we're  tae   dee,   we're   tae  dee ;    an'   if 
we're  tae  live,  we're  tae  live,  concluded  Els- 
39 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

peth,  with  sound  Calvinistic  logic ;  "  but  a'll 
say  this  for  the  doctor,  that  whether  yir  tae 
live  or  dee,  he  can  aye  keep  up  a  sharp  meis- 
ture  on  the  skin. 

"  But  he's  no  veera  ceevil  gin  ye  bring  him 
when  there's  naethin'  wrang,"  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
fayden's  face  reflected  another  of  Mr.  Hopps' 
misadventures  of  which  Hillocks  held  the 
copyright. 

"  Hopps'  laddie  ate  grosarts  (gooseberries) 
till  they  hed  to  sit  up  a'  nicht  wi'  him,  an' 
naethin'  wud  do  but  they  maun  hae  the  doc 
tor,  an'  he  writes  '  immediately '  on  a  slip  o' 
paper. 

"  Weel,  MacLure  had  been  awa  a'  nicht  wi' 
a  shepherd's  wife  Dunleith  wy,  and  he  comes 
here  withoot  drawin'  bridle,  mud  up  tae  the  een. 

"  '  What's  a  dae  here,  Hillocks  ?  '  he  cries  ; 
'  it's  no  an  accident,  is't  ?  '  and  when  he  got  aff 
his  horse  he  cud  hardly  stand  wi'  stiffness  and 
tire. 

40 


HOPPS*   LADDIE   ATE 
GROSARTS" 


41 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER 

" '  It's  nane  o'  us,  doctor ;  it's  Hopps'  lad 
die;  he's  been  eatin'  ower  mony  berries/ 

"  If  he  didna  turn  on  me  like  a  tiger. 

"'  Div  ye  mean  tae  say ' 

"  *  Weesht,  weesht,'  an'  I  tried  tae  quiet 
him,  for  Hopps  wes  comin'  oot. 

"  '  Well,  doctor,'  begins  he,  as  brisk  as  a 
magpie,  '  you're  here  at  last ;  there's  no  hurry 
with  you  Scotchmen.  My  boy  has  been  sick 
all  night,  and  I've  never  had  one  wink  of 
sleep.  You  might  have  come  a  little  quicker, 
that's  all  I've  got  to  say.' 

"'We've  mair  tae  dae  in  Drumtochty  than 
attend  tae  every  bairn  that  hes  a  sair  stomach/ 
and  a'  saw  MacLure  wes  roosed. 

"  '  I'm  astonished  to  hear  you  speak.  Our 
doctor  at  home  always  says  to  Mrs.  'Opps 
*  Look  on  me  as  a  family  friend,  Mrs.  'Opps, 
and  send  for  me  though  it  be  only  a  head 
ache.'  " 

"  '  He'd  be  mair  sparin'  o'  his  offers  if  he 
43 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

bed  four  and  twenty  mile  tae  look  aifter. 
There's  naethin'  wrang  wi'  yir  laddie  but 
greed.  Gie  him  a  gude  dose  o'  castor  oil  and 
stop  his  meat  for  a  day,  an'  he  'ill  be  a'  richt 
the  morn.' 

"  <  He  'ill  not  take  castor  oil,  doctor.  We 
have  given  up  those  barbarous  medicines.' 

"  '  Whatna  kind  o'  medicines  hae  ye  noo  in 
the  .Sooth?' 

"  '  Well,  you  see,  Dr.  MacLure,  we're  homce- 
opathists,  and  I've  my  little  chest  here/  and 
oot  Hopps  comes  wi'  his  boxy. 

"  '  Let's  see't,'  an'  MacLure  sits  doon  and 
taks  oot  the  bit  bottles,  and  he  reads  the 
names  wi'  a  lauch  every  time. 

"  '  Belladonna  ;  did  ye  ever  hear  the  like  ? 
Aconite ;  it  cowes  a'.  Nux  Vomica.  What 
next  ?  Weel,  ma  mannie,'  he  says  tae  Hopps, 
'  it's  a  fine  ploy,  and  ye  'ill  better  gang  on  wi' 
the  Nux  till  it's  dune,  and  gie  him  ony  ither 
o'  the  sweeties  he  fancies. 

44 


A  GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

"  '  Noo,  Hillocks,  a'  maun  be  aff  tae  see 
Drumsheugh's  grieve,  for  he's  doon  wi'  the 
fever,  and  it's  tae  be  a  tench  fecht.  A'  hinna 
time  tae  wait  for  dinner ;  gie  me  some  cheese 
an'  cake  in  ma  haund,  and  Jess  'ill  tak  a  pail 
o'  meal  an'  water. 

"  '  Fee ;  a'm  no  wantin'  yir  fees,  man ;  wi' 
that  boxy  ye  dinna  need  a  doctor ;  na,  na,  gie  yir 
siller  tae  some  puir  body,  Maister  Hopps,'  an' 
he  was  doon  the  road  as  hard  as  he  cud  lick." 

His  fees  were  pretty  much  what  the  folk 
chose  to  give  him,  and  he  collected  them  once 
a  year  at  Kildrummie  fair. 

"  Well,  doctor,  what  am  a'  awin'  ye  for  the 
wife  and  bairn  ?  Ye  'ill  need  three  notes  for 
that  nicht  ye  stayed  in  the  hoose  an'  a' 
the  veesits." 

"  Havers,"  MacLure  would  answer,  "  prices 
are  low,  a'm  hearing ;  gie's  thirty  shillings." 

"  No,  a'll  no,  or  the  wife  'ill  tak  ma  ears 
off,"  and  it  was  settled  for  two  pounds. 
45 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

Lord  Kilspindie  gave  him  a  free  house  and 
fields,  and  one  way  or  other,  Drumsheugh 
told  me,  the  doctor  might  get  in  about  £150 
a  year,  out  of  which  he  had  to  pay  his  old 
housekeeper's  wages  and  a  boy's,  and  keep 
two  horses,  besides  the  cost  of  instruments 
and  books,  which  he  bought  through  a  friend 
in  Edinburgh  with  much  judgment. 

There  was  only  one  man  who  ever  com 
plained  of  the  doctor's  charges,  and  that  was 
the  new  farmer  of  Milton,  who  was  so  good  that 
he  was  above  both  churches,  and  held  a  meet 
ing  in  his  barn.  (It  was  Milton  the  Glen  sup 
posed  at  first  to  be  a  Mormon,  but  I  can't  go 
into  that  now.)  He  offered  MacLure  a  pound 
less  than  he  asked,  and  two  tracts,  whereupon 
MacLure  expressed  his  opinion  of  Milton,  both 
from  a  theological  and  social  standpoint,  with 
such  vigor  and  frankness  that  an  attentive 
audience  of  Drumtochty  men  could  hardly 
contain  themselves. 

46 


A    GENERAL    PRACTITIONER 

Jamie  Soutar  was  selling  his  pig  at  the  time, 
and  missed  the  meeting,  but  he  hastened  to 
condole  with  Milton,  who  was  complaining 
everywhere  of  the  doctor's  language. 

"  Ye  did  richt  tae  resist  him  ;  it  "ill  maybe 


roose  the  Glen  tae  mak  a  stand  ;  he  fair  hauds 
them  in  bondage. 

"  Thirty  shillings  for  twal  veesits,  and  him 
no  mair  than  seeven  mile   awa,  an'    a'm  telt 
there  werena  mair  than  four  at  nicht 
47 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

"  Ye  'ill  hae  the  sympathy  o'  the  Glen,  for 
a'  body  kens  yir  as  free  wi'  yir  siller  as  yir 
tracts. 

"  Wes't  '  Beware  o'  gude  warks'  ye  offered 
him?  Man,  ye  choose  it  weel,  for  he's  been 
colleckin'  sae  mony  thae  forty  years,  a'm  feared 
for  him. 

"  AVe  often  thocht  oor  doctor's  little  better 
than  the  Gude  Samaritan,  an'  the  Pharisees 
didna  think  muckle  o'  his  chance  aither  in  this 
warld  or  that  which  is  tae  come." 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD. 


DOCTOR  MAcLURE  did  not 
lead  a  solemn  procession 
from  the  sick  bed  to  the  dining- 
room,  and  give  his  opinion  from 
the  hearthrug  with  an  air  of 
wisdom  bordering  on  the  super 
natural,  because  neither  the  Drumtochty 
houses  nor  his  manners  were  on  that  large 
scale.  He  was  accustomed  to  deliver  himself 
in  the  yard,  and  to  conclude  his  directions 
with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup ;  but  when  he  left 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

the  room  where  the  life  of  Annie  Mitchell  was 
ebbing  slowly  away,  our  doctor  said  not  one 
word,  and  at  the  sight  of  his  face  her  hus 
band's  heart  was  troubled. 

He  was  a  dull  man,  Tammas,  who  could 
not  read  the  meaning  of  a  sign,  and  labored 
under  a  perpetual  disability  of  speech ;  but 
love  was  eyes  to  him  that  day,  and  a  mouth. 

"  Is't  as  bad  as  yir  lookin',  doctor  ?  tail's 
the  truth ;  wull  Annie  no  come  through  ? " 
and  Tammas  looked  MacLure  straight  in  the 
face,  who  never  flinched  his  duty  or  said 
smooth  things. 

"  A'  wud  gie  onything  tae  say  Annie  hes  a 
chance,  but  a'  daurna ;  a'  doot  yir  gaein'  tae 
lose  her,  Tammas." 

MacLure  was  in  the  saddle,  and  as  he  gave 
his  judgment,  he  laid  his  hand  on  Tammas's 
shoulder  with  one  of  the  rare  caresses  that 
pass  between  men. 

"  It's  a  sair  business,  but  ye  'ill  play  the 
52 


A'  DOOT  YIR  GAEIN'  TAE  LOSE  HEK,  TAMMAS 


53 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

man  and  no  vex  Annie ;  she  'ill  dae  her  best, 
a'll  warrant." 

"An'  a'll  dae  mine,"  and  Tammas  gave 
MacLure's  hand  a  grip  that  would  have 
crushed  the  bones  of  a  weakling.  Drum- 
tochty  felt  in  such  moments  the  brotherliness 
of  this  rough-looking  man,  and  loved  him. 

Tammas  hid  his  face  in  Jess's  mane,  who 
looked  round  with  sorrow  in  her  beautiful 
eyes,  for  she  had  seen  many  tragedies,  and  in 
this  silent  sympathy  the  stricken  man  drank 
his  cup,  drop  by  drop. 

"  A'  wesna  prepared  for  this,  for  a'  aye 
thocht  she  wud  live  the  langest.  .  .  .  She's 
younger  than  me  by  ten  years,  and  never  wes 
ill.  .  .  .  We've  been  mairit  twal  year  laist 
Martinmas,  but  it's  juist  like  a  year  the  day 
...  A'  wes  never  worthy  o'  her,  the  bon 
niest,  snoddest  (neatest),  kindliest  lass  in  the 
Glen.  ...  A'  never  cud  mak  oot  hoo  she 
ever  lookit  at  me,  'at  hesna  hed  ae  word  tae 
55 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

say  aboot  her  till  it's  ower  late.  .  .  .  She 
didna  cuist  up  tae  me  that  a'  wesna  worthy  o' 
her,  no  her,  but  aye  she  said,  '  Yir  ma  ain 
gudeman,  and  nane  cud  be  kinder  tae  me.' 
.  .  .  An'  a'  wes  minded  tae  be  kind,  but  a' 
see  noo  mony  little  trokes  a'  micht  hae  dune 
for  her,  and  noo  the  time  is  bye.  .  .  .  Nae- 
body  kens  hoo  patient  she  wes  wi'  me,  and 
aye  made  the  best  o  'me,  an'  never  pit  me 
tae  shame  afore  the  fouk.  .  .  .  An'  we  never 
hed  ae  cross  word,  no  ane  in  twal  year.  ... 
We  were  mair  nor  man  and  wife,  we  were 
sweethearts  a'  the  time.  .  .  .  Oh,  ma  bonnie 
lass,  what  'ill  the  bairnies  an'  me  dae  withoot 
ye,  Annie?" 

The  winter  night  was  falling  fast,  the  snow 
lay  deep  upon  the  ground,  and  the  merciless 
north  wind  moaned  through  the  close  as 
Tammas  wrestled  with  his  sorrow  dry-eyed, 
for  tears  were  denied  Drumtochty  men. 
Neither  the  doctor  nor  Jess  moved  hand  or 
56 


THE    BONNIEST,    SNODDEST,  ^KINDLIEST 
LASS   IN   THE   GLEN 


57 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

foot,  but  their  hearts  were  with  their  fellow 
creature,  and  at  length  the  doctor  made  a 
sign  to  Marget  Howe,  who  had  come  out  in 
search  of  Tammas,  and  now  stood  by  his 
side. 

"  Dinna  mourn  tae  the  brakin'  o'  yir  hert, 
Tammas,"  she  said, "  as  if  Annie  an'  you  hed 


never  luved.  Neither  death  nor  time  can 
pairt  them  that  luve ;  there's  naethin'  in  a'  the 
warld  sae  strong  as  luve.  If  Annie  gaes  frae 
the  sichot  '  yir  een  she  'ill  come  the  nearer  tae 
yir  hert.  She  wants  tae  see  ye,  and  tae  hear 
ye  say  that  ye  'ill  never  forget  her  nicht  nor 
day  till  ye  meet  in  the  land  where  there's  nae 
59 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

pairtin'.  Oh,  a'  ken  what  a'm  saying',  for  it's 
five  year  noo  sin  George  gied  awa,  an'  he's 
mair  wi'  me  noo  than  when  he  wes  in  Edin- 
boro'  and  I  was  in  Drumtochty." 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  Marget ;  thae  are  gude 


words  and  true,  an'  ye  hev  the  richt  tae  say 
them  ;  but  a'  canna  dae  without  seein'  Annie 
comin'  tae  meet  me  in  the  gloamin',  an'  gaein' 
in  an'  oot  the  hoose,  an'  hearin'  her  ca'  me  by 
63 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

ma  name,  an'  a'll  no  can  tell  her  that  a'  luve 
her  when  there's  nae  Annie  in  the  hoose. 

"  Can  naethin'  be  dune,  doctor  ?  Ye  savit 
Flora  Cammil,  and  young  Burnbrae,  an'  yon 
shepherd's  wife  Dunleith  wy,  an'  we  were  a 
sae  prood  o'  ye,  an'  pleased  tae  think  that  ye 
hed  keepit  deith  frae  anither  hame.  Can  ye 
no  think  o'  somethin'  tae  help  Annie,  and  gie 
her  back  tae  her  man  and  bairnies?"  and 
Tammas  searched  the  doctor's  face  in  the  cold, 
weird  light. 

"There's  nae  pooer  on  heaven  or  airth  like 
luve,"  Marget  said  to  me  afterwards  ;  it  maks 
the  weak  strong  and  the  dumb  tae  speak. 
Oor  herts  were  as  water  afore  Tammas's 
words,  an'  a'  saw  the  doctor  shake  in  his 
saddle.  A'  never  kent  till  that  meenut  hoo  he 
hed  a  share  in  a'body's  grief,  an'  carried  the 
heaviest  wecht  o'  a'  the  Glen.  A'  peetied  him 
wi'  Tammas  lookin'  at  him  sae  wistfully,  as  if 
he  hed  the  keys  o'  life  an'  deith  in  his  hands. 
61 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

But  he  wes  honest,  and  wudna  hold  oot  a 
false  houp  tae  deceive  a  sore  hert  or  win  es 
cape  for  himsel'." 

"  Ye  needna  plead  wi'  me,  Tammas,  to  dae 
the  best  a'  can  for  yir  wife.  Man,  a'  kent  her 
lang  afore  ye  ever  luved  her ;  a'  brocht  her 
intae  the  warld,  and  a'  saw  her  through  the 
fever  when  she  wes  a  bit  lassikie ;  a'  closed 
her  mither's  een,  and  it  was  me  hed  tae  tell 
her  she  wes  an  orphan,  an'  nae  man  wes  better 
pleased  when  she  got  a  gude  husband,  and  a' 
helpit  her  wi'  her  fower  bairns.  A've  naither 
wife  nor  bairns  o'  ma  own,  an'  a7  coont  a'  the 
fouk  o'  the  Glen  ma  family.  Div  ye  think  a' 
wudna  save  Annie  if  I  cud?  If  there  wes  a 
man  in  Muirtown  'at  cud  dae  mair  for  her,  a'd 
have  him  this  verra  nicht,  but  a'  the  doctors 
in  Perthshire  are  helpless  for  this  tribble. 

"  Tammas,  ma  puir  fallow,  if  it  could  avail, 
a'  tell  ye  a'  wud  lay  doon  this  auld  worn-oot 
ruckle  o'  a  body  o'  mine  juist  tae  see  ye  baith 
62 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

sittin'  at  the  fireside,  an'  the  bairns  roond  ye, 
couthy  an'  canty  again ;  but  it's  no  tae  be, 
Tammas,  it's  no  tae  be." 

"When  a'  lookit  at  the  doctor's  face,"  Marget 
said,  "  a'  thocht  him  the  winsomest  man  a'  ever 
saw.  He  was  transfigured  that  nicht,  for  a'm 
judging  there's  nae  transfiguration  like  luve." 

"  It's  God's  wull  an'  maun  be  borne,  but  it's 
a  sair  wull  for  me,  an'  a'm  no  ungratefu'  tae 
you,  doctor,  for  a'  ye've  dune  and  what  ye 
said  the  nicht,"  and  Tammas  went  back  to  sit 
with  Annie  for  the  last  time. 

Jess  picked  her  way  through  the  deep  snow 
to  the  main  road,  with  a  skill  that  came  of 
long  experience,  and  the  doctor  held  converse 
with  her  according  to  his  wont. 

"  Eh,  Jess  wumman,  yon  wes  the  hardest 
wark  a'  hae  tae  face,  and  a'  wud  raither  hae 
ta'en  ma  chance  o'  anither  row  in  a  Glen 
Urtach  drift  than  tell  Tammas  Mitchell  his 
wife  wes  deein'. 

63 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

"  A'  said  she  cudna  be  cured,  and  it  wes 
true,  for  there's  juist  ae  man  in  the  land  fit 
for't,  and  they  micht  as  weel  try  tae  get  the 
mune  oot  o'  heaven.  Sae  a'  said  naethin'  tae 
vex  Tammas's  hert,  for  it's  heavy  eneuch 
withoot  regrets. 

"  But  it's  hard,  Jess,  that  money  wull  buy 
life  after  a',  an'  if  Annie  wes  a  duchess  her 
man  wudna  lose  her ;  but  bein'  only  a  puir 
cottar's  wife,  she  maun  dee  afore  the  week's 
oot 

"  Gin  we  hed  him  the  morn  there's  little 
doot  she  would  be  saved,  for  he  hesna  lost 
mair  than  five  per  cent,  o'  his  cases,  and  they 
'ill  be  puir  toon's  craturs,  no  strappin  women 
like  Annie. 

"  It's  oot  o'  the  question,  Jess,  sae  hurry  up, 
lass,  for  we've  hed  a  heavy  day.  But  it  wud 
be  the  grandest  thing  that  was  ever  dune  in 
the  Glen  in  oor  time  if  it  could  be  managed 
by  hook  or  crook, 

64 


IT'S   GOT   O'    THE   QUESTION,   JESS,    SAE    HUKRY    UP 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

"  We  'ill  gang  and  see  Drumsheugh,  Jess ; 
he's  anither  man  sin'  Geordie  Hoo's  deith,  and 
he  wes  aye  kinder  than  fouk  kent;"  and  the 
doctor  passed  at  a  gallop  through  the  village, 
whose  lights  shone  across  the  white  frost- 
bound  road. 

"  Come  in  by,  doctor ;  a'  heard  ye  on  the 
road ;  ye  'ill  hae  been  at  Tammas  Mitchell's ; 
hoo's  the  gudewife  ?  a'  doot  she's  sober." 

"Annie's  deein',  Drumsheugh,  an'  Tammas 
is  like  tae  brak  his  hert." 

"That's  no  lichtsome,  doctor,  no  lichtsome 
ava,  for  a'  dinna  ken  ony  man  in  Drumtochty 
sae  bund  up  in  his  wife  as  Tammas,  and 
there's  no  a  bonnier  wumman  o'  her  age 
crosses  our  kirk  door  than  Annie,  nor  a  clev 
erer  at  her  wark.  Man,  ye  'ill  need  tae  pit  yir 
brains  in  steep.  Is  she  clean  beyond  ye?" 

"  Beyond  me  and  every  ither  in   the  land 
but  ane,  and  it  wud  cost  a  hundred  guineas 
tae  bring  him  tae  Drumtochty." 
67 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Certes,  he's  no  blate ;  it's  a  fell  chairge  for 
a  short  day's  work  ;  but  hundred  or  no  hun 


dred  we  '11  hae  him,  an'  no  let  Annie  gang, 
and  her  no  half  her  years." 

"  Are  ye    meanin'   it,  Drumsheugh  ?"    and 
MacLure  turned  white  below  the  tan. 
68 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

"  William  MacLure,"  said  Drumsheugh,  in 
one  of  the  few  confidences  that  ever  broke  the 
Drumtochty  reserve,  "  a'm  a  lonely  man,  wi' 
naebody  o'  ma  ain  blude  tae  care  for  me 
livin',  or  tae  lift  me  intae  ma  coffin  when  a'm 
deid. 

"  A'  fecht  awa  at  Muirtown  market  for  an 
extra  pound  on  a  beast,  or  a  shillin'  on  the 
quarter  o'  barley,  an'  what's  the  gude  o't? 
Burnbrae  gaes  afT  tae  get  a  goon  for  his  wife 
or  a  buke  for  his  college  laddie,  an'  Lachlan 
Campbell  'ill  no  leave  the  place  noo  without  a 
ribbon  for  Flora. 

"  Ilka  man  in  the.  Klldrummie  train  has 
some  bit  fairin'  his  pooch  for  the  fouk  at 
hame  that  he's  bocht  wi'  the  siller  he  won. 

"  But  there's  naebody  tae  be  lookin'  oot  for 
me,  an'  comin*  doon  the  road  tae  meet  me, 
and  daffin'  (joking)  wi'  me  about  their  fairing, 
or  feeling  ma  pockets.  Ou  ay,  a've  seen  it  a' 
at  ither  hooses,  though  they  tried  tae  hide  it 
69 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

frae  me  for  fear  a'  wud  lauch  at  them.     Me 
lauch,  wi'  ma  cauld,  empty  hame! 

"  Yir  the  only  man  kens,  Weelum,  that  I 
aince  luved  the  noblest  wumman  in  the  glen 
or  onywhere,  an'  a'  luve  her  still,  but  wi' 
anither  luve  noo. 

"  She  had  given  her  heart  tae  anither,  or 
a've  thocht  a'  micht  hae  won  her,  though  nae 
man  be  worthy  o'  sic  a  gift.  Ma  hert  turned 
tae  bitterness,  but  that  passed  awa  beside  the 
brier  bush  whar  George  Hoo  lay  yon  sad  sim 
mer  time.  Some  day  a'll  tell  ye  ma  story, 
Weelum,  for  you  an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and 
will  be  till  we  dee." 

MacLure  felt  beneath  the  table  for  Drums- 
heugh's  hand,  but  neither  man  looked  at  the 
other. 

"  Weel,  a'  we  can  dae  noo,  Weelum,  gin  we 

haena  mickle  brichtness  in  oor  ain  hames,  is 

tae  keep    the  licht  frae  gaein'  oot  in  anither 

hoose.     Write  the  telegram,  man,  and  Sandy 

70 


"THE  EAST  HAD  COME  TO  MEET  THE  WEST' 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

'ill  send  it  aff  frae  Kildrummie  this  verra  nicht, 
and  ye  'ill  hae  yir  man  the  morn." 

"  Yir  the  man  a'  coonted  ye,  Drumsheugh, 
but  ye  'ill  grant  me  ae  favor.  Ye  'ill  lat  me 
pay  the  half,  bit  by  bit — a'  ken  yir  wullin'  tae 
dae't  a' — but  a'  haena  mony  pleasures,  an'  a' 
wud  like  tae  hae  ma  ain  share  in  savin' 
Annie's  life." 

Next  morning  a  figure  received  Sir  George 
on  the  Kildrummie  platform,  whom  that 
famous  surgeon  took  for  a  gillie,  but  who  in 
troduced  himself  as  "  MacLure  of  Drumtoch- 
ty."  It  seemed  as  if  the  East  had  come  to 
meet  the  West  when  these  two  stood  together, 
the  one  in  travelling  furs,  handsome  and  dis 
tinguished,  with  his  strong,  cultured  face  and 
carriage  of  authority,  a  characteristic  type  of 
his  profession;  and  the  other  more  marvel 
lously  dressed  than  ever,  for  Drumsheugh's 
topcoat  had  been  forced  upon  him  for  the 
occasion,  his  face  and  neck  one  redness  with 
73 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

the  bitter  cold;  rough  and  ungainly,  yet  not 
without  some  signs  of  power  in  his  eye  and 
voice,  the  most  heroic  type  of  his  noble  pro 
fession.  MacLure  compassed  the  precious 
arrival  with  observances  till  he  was  securely 
seated  in  Drumsheugh's  dog  cart — a  vehicle 
that  lent  itself  to  history — with  two  full-sized 
plaids  added  to  his  equipment — Drumsheugh 
and  Hillocks  had  both  been  requistioned — 
and  MacLure  wrapped  another  plaid  round  a 
leather  case,  which  was  placed  below  the  seat 
with  such  reverence  as  might  be  given  to  the 
Queen's  regalia.  Peter  attended  their  depart 
ure  full  of  interest,  and  as  soon  as  they  were 
in  the  fir  woods  MacLure  explained  that  it 
would  be  an  eventful  journey. 

"  It's  a  richt  in  here,  for  the  wind  disna  get 
at  the  snaw,  but  the  drifts  are  deep  in  the 
Glen,  and  th'ill  be  some  engineerin'  afore  we 
get  tae  oor  destination." 

Four  times  they  left  the  road  and  took  their 
74 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

way  over  fields,  twice  they  forced  a  passage 
through  a  slap  in  a  dyke,  thrice  they  used 
gaps  in  the  paling  which  MacLure  had  made 
on  his  downward  journey. 

"  A'  seleckit  the  road  this  mornin',  an'  a* 


ken  the  depth  tae  an  inch  ;  we  'ill  get  through 
this  steadin'  here  tae  the  main  road,  but  oor 
worst  job  'ill  be  crossin'  the  Tochty. 

"  Ye   see   the  bridge   hes  been  shaken  wi' 

75 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

this  winter's  flood,  and  we  daurna  venture  on 
it,  sae  we  hev  tae  ford,  and  the  snaw's  been 
melting  up  Urtach  way.  There's  nae  doot 
the  water's  gey  big,  and  it's  threatenin'  tae 
rise,  but  we  'ill  win  through  wi'  a  warstle. 

"  It  micht  be  safer  tae  lift  the  instruments 
oot  o'  reach  o'  the  water ;  wud  ye  mind  had- 
din'  them  on  yir  knee  till  we're  ower,  an'  keep 
firm  in  yir  seat  in  case  we  come  on  a  stane  in 
the  bed  o'  the  river." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  edge, 
and  it  was  not  a  cheering  sight.  The  Tochty 
had  spread  out  over  the  meadows,  and  while 
they  waited  they  could  see  it  cover  another 
two  inches  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  There  are 
summer  floods,  when  the  water  is  brown  and 
flecked  with  foam,  but  this  was  a  winter  flood, 
which  is  black  and  sullen,  and  runs  in  the 
centre  with  a  strong,  fierce,  silent  current. 
Upon  the  opposite  side  Hillocks  stood  to  give 
directions  by  word  and  hand,  as  the  ford  was 
76 


PASSED  THROUGH    THE   SHALLOW  WATEK   WITHOU 

77 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

on  his  land,  and  none  knew  the  Tochty  better 
in  all  its  ways. 

They  passed  through  the  shallow  water 
without  mishap,  save  when  the  wheel  struck  a 
hidden  stone  or  fell  suddenly  into  a  rut ;  but 
when  they  neared  the  body  of  the  river  Mac- 
Lure  halted,  to  give  Jess  a  minute's  breathing. 

"  It  'ill  tak  ye  a'  yir  time,  lass,  an'  a'  wud 
raither  be  on  yir  back  ;  but  ye  never  failed  me 
yet,  and  a  wumman's  life  is  hangin'  on  the 
crossinV 

With  the  first  plunge  into  the  bed  of  the 
stream  the  water  rose  to  the  axles,  and  then  it 
crept  up  to  the  shafts,  so  that  the  surgeon 
could  feel  it  lapping  in  about  his  feet,  while 
the  dogcart  began  to  quiver,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  it  were  to  be  carried  away.  *  Sir  George  was 
as  brave  as  most  men,  but  he  had  never  forded 
a  Highland  river  in  flood,  and  the  mass  of 
black  water  racing  past  beneath,  before,  be 
hind  him,  affected  his  imagination  and  shook 
79 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

his  nerves.  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  ordered 
MacLure  to  turn  back,  declaring  that  he 
would  be  condemned  utterly  and  eternally  if 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  drowned  for  any 
person. 

"  Sit  doon,"  thundered  MacLure ;  "  con 
demned  ye  will  be  suner  or  later  gin  ye  shirk 
yir  duty,  but  through  the  water  ye  gang  the 
day." 

Both  men  spoke  much  more  strongly  and 
shortly,  but  this  is  what  they  intended  to  say, 
and  it  was  MacLure  that  prevailed. 

Jess  trailed  her  feet  along  the  ground  with 
cunning  art,  and  held  her  shoulder  against  the 
stream ;  MacLure  leant  forward  in  his  seat,  a 
rein  in  each  hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  Hil 
locks,  who  was  now  standing  up  to  the  waist 
in  the  water,  shouting  directions  and  cheering 
on  horse  and  driver. 

"  Haud  tae  the  richt,  doctor ;  there's  a  hole 
yonder.  Keep  oot  o't  for  ony  sake.  That's 
80 


HEAP   OF   SPEECHLESS   MISEKY   BY   THE   KITCHEN   FIRE. 


Si 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

it ;  yir  daein'  fine.  Steady,  man,  steady.  Yir 
at  the  deepest;  sit  heavy  in  yir  seats.  Up  the 
channel  noo,  and  ye  '11  be  oot  o'  the  swirl. 
Weel  dune,  Jess,  weel  dune,  auld  mare !  Mak 
straicht  for  me,  doctor,  an'  a' 11  gie  ye  the  road 
oot.  Ma  word,  ye've  dune  yir  best,  baith  o' 
ye  this  mornin',"  cried  Hillocks,  splashing  up 
to  the  dogcart,  now  in  the  shallows. 

"  Sail,  it  wes  titch  an'  go  for  a  meenut  in 
the  middle;  a  Hielan'  ford  is  a  kittle  (haz 
ardous)  road  in  the  snaw  time,  but  ye're 
safe  noo. 

"  Gude  luck  tae  ye  up  at  Westerton,  sir  ; 
nane  but  a  richt-hearted  man  wud  hae  riskit 
the  Tochty  in  flood.  Ye're  boond  tae  succeed 
aifter  sic  a  graund  beginnin',"  for  it  had  spread 
already  that  a  famous  surgeon  had  come 
to  do  his  best  for  Annie,  Tammas  Mitchell's 
wife. 

Two  hours  later  Mac  Lure  came  out  from 
Annie's  room  and  laid  hold  of  Tammas,  a 
83 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

heap  of  speechless  misery  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  carried  him  off  to  the  barn,  and  spread 
some  corn  on  the  threshing  floor  and  thrust  a 
flail  into  his  hands. 

"  Noo  we've  tae  begin,  an'  we  'ill  no  be 
dune  for  an'  oor,  and  ye've  tae  lay  on  withoot 
stoppin'  till  a'  come  for  ye,  an'  a'll  shut  the 
door  tae  haud  in  the  noise,  an'  keep  yir  dog 
beside  ye,  for  there  maunna  be  a  cheep  aboot 
the  hoose  for  Annie's  sake." 

"  A'll  dae  onything  ye  want  me,  but  if — 
if " 

"A'll  come  for  ye,  Tammas,  gin  there  be 
danger ;  but  what  are  ye  feared  for  wi'  the 
Queen's  ain  surgeon  here?  " 

Fifty  minutes  did  the  flail  rise  and  fall,  save 
twice,  when  Tammas  crept  to  the  door  and 
listened,  the  dog  lifting  his  head  and  whin 
ing. 

It  seemed  twelve  hours  instead  of  one  when 
the  door  swung  back,  and  MacLure  filled  the 
84 


MA   AIN   DEAR   MAN" 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

doorway,  preceded  by  a  great  burst  of  light, 
for  the  sun  had  arisen  on  the  snow. 

His  face  was  as  tidings  of  great  joy,  and 
Elspeth  told  me  that  there  was  nothing  like  it 
to  be  seen  that  afternoon  for  glory,  save  the 
sun  itself  in  the  heavens. 

"  A'  never  saw  the  marrow  o't,  Tammas,  an' 
a'll  never  see  the  like  again  ;  it's  a'  ower,  man, 
withoot  a  hitch  frae  beginnin'  tae  end,  and 
she's  fa'in'  asleep  as  fine  as  ye  like.' ' 

"  Dis  he  think  Annie  .  .  .  'ill  live?" 

"  Of  coorse  he  dis,  and  be  aboot  the  hoose 
inside  a  month  ;  that's  the  gud  o'  bein'  a  clean- 
bluided,  weel-livin' " 

"  Preserve  ye,  man,  what's  wrang  wi'  ye  ? 
it's  a  mercy  a'  keppit  ye,  or  we  wud  hev  hed 
anither  job  for  Sir  George. 

"Ye're  a  richt  noo;  sit  doon  on  the  strae. 
A'll  come  back  in  a  whilie,  an'  ye  i'll  see  Annie 
juist  for  a  meenut,  but  ye  maunna  say  a 
word." 

87 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD    SCHOOL 

Marget  took  him  in  and  let  him  kneel  by 
Annie's  bedside. 

He  said  nothing  then  or  afterwards,  for 
speech  came  only  once  in  his  lifetime  to  Tam- 
mas,  but  Annie  whispered,  "  Ma  ain  dear 
man." 

When  the  doctor  placed  the  precious  bag 
beside  Sir  George  in  our  solitary  first  next 
morning,  he  laid  a  cheque  beside  it  and  was 
about  to  leave. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  great  man.  "  Mrs.  Mac- 
fayden  and  I  were  on  the  gossip  last  night, 
and  I  know  the  whole  story  about  you  and 
your  friend. 

"  You  have  some  right  to  call  me  a  coward, 
but  I'll  never  let  you  count  me  a  mean,  mis 
erly  rascal,"  and  the  cheque  with  Drum- 
sheugh's  painful  writing  fell  in  fifty  pieces  on 
the  floor. 

As  the  train  began  to  move,  a  voice  from 
the  first  called  so  that  all  the  station  heard. 
88 


'M    PKOUD   TO    HAVE   MET    YOU 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD 

"  Give's  another  shake  of  your  hand,  Mac- 
Lure;  I'm  proud  to  have  met  you;  you  are 
an  honor  to  our  profession.  Mind  the  anti 
septic  dressings." 

It  was  market  day,  but  only  Jamie  Soutar 
and  Hillocks  had  ventured  down. 

"Did  ye  hear  yon,  Hillocks?  hoo  dae  ye 
feel  ?  A'll  no  deny  a'm  lifted." 

Halfway  to  the  Junction  Hillocks  had  re 
covered,  and  began  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"  Tell's  what  he  said.  A'  wud  like  to  hae  it 
exact  for  Drumsheugh." 

"Thae's  the  eedentical  words,  an'  they're 
true ;  there's  no  a  man  in  Drumtochty  disna 
ken  that,  except  ane." 

"  An'  wha's  thar,  Jamie  ?" 

"  It's  Weelum  MacLure  himsel.  Man,  a've 
often  girned  that  he  sud  fecht  awa  for  us  a', 
and  maybe  dee  before  he  kent  that  he  hed 
githered  mair  luve  than  ony  man  in  the  Glen. 

" '  A'm  prood  tae  hae  met  ye',  says  Sir 
91 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

George,   an'  him   the  greatest    doctor  in  the 
land.     *  Yir  an  honor  tae  oor-profession.' 

"  Hillocks,  a'  wudna  hae  missed  it  for 
twenty  notes,"  said  James  Soutar,  cynic-in- 
ordinary  to  the  parish  of  Drumtochty. 


92 


A   FIGHT   WITH    DEATH. 


'HEN  Drumsheugh's  grieve 
was  brought  to  the  gates 
of  death  by  fever,  caught,  as  was 
supposed,  on  an  adventurous  visit 
to  Glasgow,  the  London  doctor  at 
Lord  Kilspindie's  shooting  lodge  looked  in  on 
his  way  from  the  moor,  and  declared  it  impos 
sible  for  Saunders  to  live  through  the  night. 

"  I  give  him  six  hours,  more  or  less ;  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time,"  said  the  oracle,  but- 
95 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

toning  his  gloves  and  getting  into  the  brake ; 
"  tell  your  parish  doctor  that  I  was  sorry  not 
to  have  met  him." 

Bell  heard  this  verdict  from  behind  the 
door,  and  gave  way  utterly,  but  Drumsheugh 
declined  to  accept  it  as  final,  and  devoted  him 
self  to  consolation. 

"  Dinna  greet  like  that,  Bell  wumman,  sae 
lang  as  Saunders  is  still  livin' ;  a'll  never 
give  up  houp,  for  ma  pairt,  till  oor  ain  man 
says  the  word. 

"  A'  the  doctors  in  the  land  dinna  ken  as 
muckle  aboot  us  as  Weelum  MacLure,  an'  he's 
ill  tae  beat  when  he's  trying  tae  save  a  man's 
life." 

MacLure,  on  his  coming,  would  say  noth 
ing,  either  weal  or  woe,  till  he  had  examined 
Saunders.  Suddenly  his  face  turned  into  iron 
before  their  eyes,  and  he  looked  like  one  en 
countering  a  merciless  foe.  For  there  was  a 
feud  between  MacLure  and  a  certain  mighty 
96 


GAVE   WAY   UTTERLY 


97 


A    FIGHT    WITH    DEATH 

power  which  had  lasted  for  forty  years  in 
Drumtochty. 

"  The  London  doctor  said  that  Saunders 
wud  sough  awa  afore  mornin',  did  he  ?  Weel, 
he's  an  authority  on  fevers  an'  sic  like  diseases, 
an'  ought  tae  ken. 

"  It's  may  be  presumptous  o'  me  tae  differ 
frae  him,  and  it  wudna  be  verra  respectfu'  o' 
Saunders  tae  live  aifter  this  opeenion.  But 
Saunders  wes  awe  thraun  an'  ill  tae  drive,  an' 
he's  as  like  as  no  tae  gang  his  own  gait. 

"  A'm  no  meanin'  tae  reflect  on  sae  clever  a 
man,  but  he  didna  ken  the  seetuation.  He 
can  read  fevers  like  a  buik,  but  he  never  cam 
across  sic  a  thing  as  the  Drumtochty  constitu 
tion  a'  his  days. 

"  Ye  see,  when  onybody  gets  as  low  as 
puir  Saunders  here,  it's  juist  a  hand  to  hand 
wrastle  atween  the  fever  and  his  constitution, 
an'  of  coorse,  if  he  had  been  a  shilpit,  stuntit, 
feckless  effeegy  o'  a  cratur,  fed  on  tea  an' 
99 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

made  dishes  and  pushioned  wi'  bad  air,  Saun- 


ders 

wud     hae 
nae  chance ;  he 
wes    boond    tae    gae 
oot  like  the  snuff  o'  a  candle. 
"  But  Saunders  hes  been  fillin'  his  lun^s  for 

o 

five  and  thirty  year   wi'   strong  Drumtochty 

100 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

air,  an'  eatin'  naethin'  but  kirny  aitmeal,  and 
drinkin'  naethin'  but  fresh  milk  frae  the  coo, 
an'  followin'  the  ploo  through  the  new-turned 
sweet-smellin'  earth,  an'  swingin'  the  scythe  in 
haytime  and  harvest,  till  the  legs  an'"  airms  o' 
him  were  iron,  an'  his  chest  wes  like  the  cuttin' 
o'  an  oak  tree. 

"He's  a  waesome  sicht  the  nicht,  but  Saun- 
ders  wes  a  btiirdly  man  aince,  and  wull  never 
lat  his  life  be  taken  lichtly  frae  him.  Na,  na, 
he  hesna  sinned  against  Nature,  and  Nature 
'ill  stand  by  him  noo  in  his  oor  o'  distress. 

"  A'  daurna  say  yea,  Bell,  muckle  as  a' 
wud  like,  for  this  is  an  evil  disease,  cunnin,  an' 
treacherous  as  the  deevil  himsel',  but  a'  winna 
say  nay,  sae  keep  yir  hert  frae  despair. 

"  It  wull  be  a  sair  fecht,  but  it  'ill  be  settled 
one  wy  or  anither  by  sax  o'clock  the  morn's 
morn.  Nae  man  can  prophecee  hoo  it  'ill  end, 
but  ae  thing  is  certain,  a'll  no  see  deith  tak  a 
Drumtochty  man  afore  his  time  if  a'  can  help  it. 

101 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Noo,  Bell  ma  wumman,  yir  near  deid  wi' 
tire,  an'  nae  wonder.  Ye've  dune  a'  ye  cud 
for  yir  man,  an'  ye  '11  lippen  (trust)  him  the 
nicht  tae  Drumsheugh  an'  me;  we  'ill  no  fail 
him  or  you. 

"  Lie  doon  an'  rest,  an'  if  it  be  the  wull  o' 
the  Almichty  a'll  wauken  ye  in  the  mornin' 
tae  see  a  livin'  conscious  man,  an'  if  it  be  ither- 
wise  a'll  come  for  ye  the  suner,  Bell,"  and  the 
big  red  hand  went  out  to  the  anxious  wife. 
"  A'  gie  ye  ma  word." 

Bell  leant  over  the  bed,  and  at  the  sight  of 
Saunders'  face  a  superstitious  dread  seized 
her. 

"  See,  doctor,  the  shadow  of  deith  is  on 
him  that  never  lifts.  A've  seen  it  afore,  on  ma 
father  an'  mither.  A'  canna  leave  him,  a' 
canna  leave  him." 

"It's  hoverin',  Bell,  but  it  hesna  fallen; 
please  God  it  never  wull.  Gang  but  and  get 
some  sleep,  for  it's  time  we  were  at  oor  work. 

102 


BKLL   LEANT   OVliK   THE    BED 


J03 


A    FIGHT    WITH    DEATH 

"  The  doctors  in  the  toons  hae  nurses  an'  a' 
kinds  o'  handy  apparatus,"  said  MacLure  to 
Drumsheugh  when  Bell  had  gone,  "  but  you 
an'  me  'ill  need  tae  be  nurse  the  nicht,  an'  use 
sic  things  as  we  hev. 

"  It  'ill  be  a  lang  nicht  and  anxious  wark, 
but  a'  wud  raither  hae  ye,  auld  freend,  wi7  me 
than  ony  man  in  the  Glen.  Ye' re  no  feared 
tae  gie  a  hand  ?  " 

"Me  feared?  No,  likely.  Man,  Saunders 
cam  tae  me  a  haflin,  and  lies  been  on  Drums 
heugh  for  twenty  years,  an'  though  he  be  a 
dour  chiel,  he's  a  faithfu'  servant  as  ever  lived. 
It's  waesome  tae  see  him  lyin'  there  moanin' 
like  some  dumb  animal  frae  mornin'  tae  nicht, 
an'  no  able  tae  answer  his  ain  wife  when  she 
speaks. 

"  Div  ye  think,  Weelum,  he  hes  a  chance?  " 

"  That  he  hes,  at  ony  rate,  and  it  'ill  no  be 
your  blame  or  mine  if  he  hesna  mair." 

While  he  was  speaking,  MacLure  took  off 
105 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

his  coat  and  waistcoat  and  hung  them  on  the 
back  of  the  door.  Then  he  rolled  up  the 
sleeves  of  his  shirt  and  laid  bare  two  arms 
that  were  nothing  but  bone  and  muscle. 

"  It  gar'd  ma  very  blood  rin  faster  tae  the 
end  of  ma  fingers  juist  tae  look  at  him," 
Drumsheugh  expatiated  afterwards  to  Hil 
locks,  "  for  a'  saw  noo  that  there  was  tae  be  a 
stand-up  fecht  atween  him  an'  deith  for  Saun- 
ders,  and  when  a'  thocht  o'  Bell  an'  her  bairns, 
a'  kent  wha  wud  win. 

"  '  AfT  wi'  yir  coat,  Drumsheugh,'  said  Mac- 
Lure  ;  '  ye  'ill  need  tae  bend  yir  back  the 
nicht ;  gither  a'  the  pails  in  the  hoose  and  fill 
them  at  the  spring,  an'  a'll  come  doon  tae  help 
ye  wi'  the  carryin'. ' ' 

It  was  a  wonderful  ascent  up  the  steep  path 
way  from  the  spring  to  the  cottage  on  its  little 
knoll,  the  two  men  in  single  file,  bareheaded, 
silent,  solemn,  each  with  a  pail  of  water 
in  either  hand,  MacLure  limping  painfully 
1 06 


A    FIGHT    WITH    DEATH 


in  front,  Drumsheugh  blowing 
behind;    and    when    they   laid 
down  their  burden  in  the  sick 
room,  where  the  bits  of  furni 
ture   had   been    put   to  a  side 
and  a  large  tub  held 
the   centre,    Drums 
heugh   looked    curi 
ously  at  the  doctor. 

"  No,  a'm  no  daft; 
ye  needna  be  feared ; 
but  yir  tae   get  yir 
first  lesson  in  medicine  the  nicht,  an'  if  we  win 
the  battle  ye  can  set  up  for  yersel  in  the  Glen. 

"  There's  twa  dangers  —  that  Saunders' 
strength  fails,  an'  that  the  force  o'  the  fever 
grows  ;  and  we  have  juist  twa  weapons. 

"  Yon  milk  on  the  drawers'  head  an'  the 
bottle  of  whisky  is  tae  keep  up  the  strength, 
and  this  cool  caller  water  is  tae  keep  doon  the 
fever. 

107 


A    DOCTOR    OF    THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

"  We  'ill  cast  oot  the  fever  by  the  virtue  o* 
the  earth  an'  the  water." 

"  Div  ye  mean  tae  pit  Saunders  in  the  tub  ?  " 

"  Ye  hiv  it  noo,  Drumsheugh,  and  that's 
hoo  a'  need  yir  help." 

"  Man,  Hillocks,"  Drumsheugh  used  to 
moralize,  as  often  as  he  remembered  that  crit 
ical  night,  "  it  wes  humblin'  tae  see  hoo  low 
sickness  can  bring  a  pooerfu'  man,  an'  ocht 
tae  keep  us  frae  pride. 

"  A  month  syne  there  wesna  a  stronger  man 
in  the  Glen  than  Saunders,  an'  noo  he  wes 
juist  a  bundle  o'  skin  and  bone,  that  naither 
saw  nor  heard,  nor  moved  nor  felt,  that  kent 
naethin'  that  was  dune  tae  him. 

"  Hillocks,  a'  wudna  hae  wished  ony  man 
tae  hev  seen  Saunders — for  it  wull  never  pass 
frae  before  ma  een  as  long  as  a'  live — but  a' 
wish  a'  the  Glen  hed  stude  by  MacLure  kneel- 
in'  on  the  floor  wi'  his  sleeves  up  tae  his  ox 
ters  and  waitin'  on  Saunders. 
108 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

"  Yon  big  man  wes  as  pitifu'  an'  gentle  as  a 
wumman,  and  when  he  laid  the  puir  fallow  in 
his  bed  again,  he  happit  him  ower  as  a  mither 
dis  her  bairn." 

Thrice  it  was  done,  Drumsheugh  ever 
bringing  up  colder  water  from  the  spring,  and 
twice  MacLure  was  silent ;  but  after  the  third 
time  there  was  a  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"  We're  haudin'  oor  ain ;  we're  no  bein' 
maistered,  at  ony  rate ;  mair  a'  canna  say  for 
three  oors. 

"  We  'ill  no  need  the  water  again,  Drums 
heugh  ;  gae  oot  and  tak  a  breath  o'  air ;  a'm 
on  gaird  masel." 

It  was  the  hour  before  daybreak,  and 
Drumsheugh  wandered  through  fields  he  had 
trodden  since  childhood.  The  cattle  lay  sleep 
ing  in  the  pastures ;  their  shadowy  forms,  with 
a  patch  of  whiteness  here  and  there,  having  a 
weird  suggestion  of  death.  He  heard  the 
burn  running  over  the  stones ;  fifty  years  ago 
109 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

he  had  made  a  dam  that  lasted  till  winter. 
The  hooting  of  an  owl  made  him  start ;  one 
had  frightened  him  as  a  boy  so  that  he  ran 
home  to  his  mother — she  died  thirty  years 
ago.  The  smell  of  ripe  corn  filled  the  air ;  it 
would  soon  be  cut  and  garnered.  He  could 


see  the  dim  outlines  of  his  house,  all  dark  and 
cold  ;  no  one  he  loved  was  beneath  the  roof. 
The  lighted  window  in  Saunders'  cottage  told 
where  a  man  hung  between  life  and  death,  but 
love  was  in  that  home.  The  futility  of  life 
arose  before  this  lonely  man,  and  overcame 

no 


A    FIGHT    WITH    DEATH 

his  heart  with  an  indescribable  sadness. 
What  a  vanity  was  all  human  labour,  what  a 
mystery  all  human  life. 

But  while  he  stood,  subtle  change  came 
over  the  night,  and  the  air  trembled  round 
him  as  if  one  had  whispered.  Drumsheugh 
lifted  his  head  and  looked  eastwards.  A  faint 
grey  stole  over  the  distant  horizon,  and  sud 
denly  a  cloud  reddened  before  his  eyes.  The 
sun  was  not  in  sight,  but  was  rising,  and  send 
ing  forerunners  before  his  face.  The  cattle  be 
gan  to  stir,  a  blackbird  burst  into  song,  and 
before  Drumsheugh  crossed  the  threshold  of 
Saunders'  house,  the  first  ray  of  the  sun  had 
broken  on  a  peak  of  the  Grampians. 

MacLure  left  the  bedside,  and  as  the  light 
of  the  candle  fell  on  the  doctor's  face,  Drums 
heugh  could  see  that  it  was  going  well  with 
Saunders. 

"  He's  nae  waur;  an'  it's  half  six  noo;  it's 
ower  sune  tae  say  mair,  but  a'm  houpin'  for 
in 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

the  best.  Sit  doon  and  take  a  sleep,  for  ye're 
needin7  't,  Drumsheugh,  an',  man,  ye  hae 
worked  for  it." 

As  he  dozed  off,  the  last  thing  Drumsheugh 
saw  was  the  doctor  sitting  erect  in  his  chair,  a 
clenched  fist  resting  on  the  bed,  and  his  eyes 
already  bright  with  the  vision  of  victoiy. 

He  awoke  with  a  start  to  find  the  room 
flooded  with  the  morning  sunshine,  and  every 
trace  of  last  night's  work  removed. 

The  doctor  was  bending  over  the  bed,  and 
speaking  to  Saunders. 

"It's  me,  Saunders,  Doctor  MacLure,  ye 
ken;  dinna  try  tae  speak  or  move;  juist  let 
this  drap  milk  slip  ower — ye  'ill  be  needin' 
yir  breakfast,  lad — and  gang  tae  sleep  again." 

Five  minutes,  and  Saunders  had  fallen  into 
a  deep,  healthy  sleep,  all  tossing  and  moaning 
come  to  an  end.  Then  MacLure  stepped 
softly  across  the  floor,  picked  up  his  coat  and 
waistcoat,  and  went  out  at  the  door. 

112 


A   CLENCHED    FIST    KLSTJNG    ON  THE   BED7 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

Drumsheugh  arose  and  followed  him  with 
out  a  word.  They  passed  through  the  little 
garden,  sparkling  with  dew,  and  beside  the 
byre,  where  Hawkie  rattled  her  chain,  impa 
tient  for  Bell's  coming,  and  by  Saunders'  little 
strip  of  corn  ready  for  the  scythe,  till  they 
reached  an  open  field.  There  they  came  to  a 
halt,  and  Doctor  MacLure  for  once  allowed 
himself  to  go. 

His  coat  he  flung  east  and  his  waistcoat  west, 
as  far  as  he  could  hurl  them,  and  it  was  plain 
he  would  have  shouted  had  he  been  a  complete 
mile  from  Saunders'  room.  Any  less  distance 
was  useless  for  the  adequate  expression.  He 
struck  Drumsheugh  a  mighty  blow  that  well- 
nigh  levelled  that  substantial  man  in  the  dust 
and  then  the  doctor  of  Drumtochty  issued  his 
bulletin. 

"  Saunders  wesna  tae  live  through  the 
nicht,  but  he's  livin'  this  meenut,  an'  like  to 
live. 

"5 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  He's  got  by  the  warst  clean  and  fair,  and 
wi'  him  that's  as  good  as  cure. 

"  It'  ill  be  a  graund  waukenin'  for  Bell;  she 
'ill  no  be  a  weedow  yet,  nor  the  bairnies  fath 
erless. 

"  There's  nae  use  glowerin'  at  me,  Drums- 
heugh,  for  a  body's  daft  at  a  time,  an'  a'  canna 
contain  masel'  and  a'm  no  gaein'  tae  try." 

Then  it  dawned  on  Dnimsheugh  that  the 
doctor  was  attempting  the  Highland  fling. 

"  He's  'ill  made  tae  begin  wi',"  Drumsheugh 
explained  in  the  kirkyard  next  Sabbath, 
"  and  ye  ken  he's  been  terrible  mishannelled 
by  accidents,  sae  ye  may  think  what  like  it 
wes,  but,  as  sure  as  deith,  o'  a'  the  Hielan 
flings  a'  ever  saw  yon  wes  the  bonniest. 

"  A'  hevna  shaken  ma  ain  legs  for  thirty 
years,  but  a'  confess  tae  a  turn  masel.  Ye 
may  lauch  an'  ye  like,  neeburs,  but  the  thocht 
o'  Bell  an'  the  news  that  wes  waitin'  her  got 
the  better  o'  me." 

116 


THE  DOCTOR   WAS  ATTEMPTING   THE   HIGHLAND   FLING 
117 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

Drumtochty  did  not  laugh.  Drumtochty 
looked  as  if  it  could  have  done  quite  other 
wise  for  joy. 

"  A'  wud  hae  made  a  third  gin  a  hed  been 
there,"  announced  Hillocks,  aggressively. 

"  Come  on,  Drumsheugh,"  said  Jamie  Sou- 


tar,  "  gie's  the  end  o't ;  it  wes  a  michty 
mornin'." 

"  '  We're  twa  auld  fules/  says  MacLure  tae 
me,  and  he  gaithers  up  his  claithes.  '  It  wud 
set  us  better  tae  be  tellin'  Bell.' 

"She  wes  sleepin'  on  the  top  o'  her  bed 
119 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

wrapped  in  a  plaid,  fair  worn  oot  wi'  three 
weeks'  nursin'  o'  Saunders,  but  at  the  first 
touch  she  was  oot  upon  the  floor. 

"  '  Is  Saunders  deein',  doctor  ?  '  she  cries. 
'  Ye  promised  tae  wauken  me  ;  dinna  tell  me 
it's  a'  ower.' 

"  '  There's  nae  deein'  aboot  him,  Bell ;  ye're 
no  tae  lose  yir  man  this  time,  sae  far  as  a'  can 
see.  Come  ben  an' jidge  for  yersel'.' 

"  Bell  lookit  at  Saunders,  and  the  tears  of 
joy  fell  on  the  bed  like  rain. 

"  '  The  shadow's  lifted,'  she  said  ;  '  he's  come 
back  frae  the  mooth  o'  the  tomb. 

"  '  A'  prayed  last  nicht  that  the  Lord  wud 
leave  Saunders  till  the  laddies  cud  dae  for 
themselves,  an'  thae  words  came  intae  ma 
mind,  "  Weepin'  may  endure  for  a  nicht,  but 
joy  cometh  in  the  mornin'." 

" '  The  Lord  heard  ma  prayer,  and  joy  hes 
come  in  the  mornin','  an'  she  gripped  the  doc 
tor's  hand. 

120 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

"  '  Ye've  been  the  instrument,  Doctor  Mac- 
Lure.     Ye  wudna  gie  him  up,  and  ye  did  what 


nae  ither  cud  for  him,  an'   a've   ma  man  the 
day,  and  the  bairns  hae  their  father.' 

"An'  afore  MacLure  kent   what  she   was 


121 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

daein',    Bell    lifted  his  hand  to   her  lips  an' 
kissed  it." 

"  Did  she,  though  ?  "  cried  Jamie.  "  Wha 
wud  hae  thocht  there  wes  as  muckle  spunk  in 
Bell  ?  " 

"  MacLure,  of  coorse,  was  clean  scandal 
ized,"  continued  Drumsheugh,  "  an'  pooed 
awa  his  hand  as  if  it  lied  been  burned. 

"  Nae  man  can  thole  that  kind  o'  fraikin', 
and  a'  never  heard  o'  sic  a  thing  in  the  parish, 
but  we  maun  excuse  Bell,  neeburs  ;  it  wes  an 
occasion  by  ordinar,"  and  Drumsheugh  made 
Bell's  apology  to  Drumtochty  for  such  an  ex 
cess  of  feeling. 

"  A'  see  naethin'  tae  excuse,"  insisted 
Jamie,  who  was  in  great  fettle  that  Sabbath  ; 
"  the  doctor  hes  never  been  burdened  wi'  fees, 
and  a'm  judgin'  he  coonted  a  wumman's  grati 
tude  that  he  saved  frae  weedowhood  the  best 
he  ever  got." 

"  A'  gaed  up  tae  the  Manse  last  nicht,"  con- 

122 


I'VE  A  COLD   IN   MY   HEAD,  TO-MGHT 


I23 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

eluded  Drumsheugh,  "  and  telt  the  minister 
hoo  the  doctor  focht  aucht  oors  for  Saunders' 
life,  an'  won,  and  ye  never  saw  a  man  sae 
carried.  He  walkit  up  and  doon  the  room  a' 
the  time,  and  every  other  meenut  he  blew  his 
nose  like  a  trumpet. 

"  '  I've  a  cold  in  my  head  to-night,  Drums 
heugh,'  says  he ;  '  never  mind  me.'  " 

"  A've  hed  the  same  masel  in  sic  circum 
stances  ;  they  come  on  sudden,"  said  Jamie. 

"  A'  wager  there  'ill  be  a  new  bit  in  the 
laist  prayer  the  day,  an'  somethin'  worth 
hearin'." 

And  the  fathers  went  into  kirk  in  great  ex 
pectation. 

"  We  beseech  Thee  for  such  as  be  sick,  that 
Thy  hand  may  be  on  them  for  good,  and  that 
Thou  wouldst  restore  them  again  to  health 
and  strength,"  was  the  familiar  petition  of  eveiy 
Sabbath. 

The  congregation  waited  in  a  silence  that 
125 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

might  be  heard,  and  were  not  disappointed 
that  morning,  for  the  minister  continued  : 

"  Especially  we  tender  Thee  hearty  thanks 
that  Thou  didst  spare  Thy  servant  who  was 
brought  down  into  the  dust  of  death,  and  hast 
given  him  back  to  his  wife  and  children,  and 
unto  that  end  didst  wonderfully  bless  the  skill 
of  him  who  goes  out  and  in  amongst  us,  the 
beloved  physician  of  this  parish  and  adjacent 
districts." 

"  Didna  a'  tell  ye,  neeburs  ?  "  said  Jamie,  as 
they  stood  at  the  kirkyard  gate  before  dispers 
ing  ;  "  there's  no  a  man  in  the  coonty  cud  hae 
dune  it  better.  'Beloved  physician/  an'  his 
'  skill/  tae,  an'  bringing  in  '  adjacent  districts' ; 
that's  Glen  Urtach ;  it  wes  handsome,  and  the 
doctor  earned  it,  ay,  every  word. 

"  It's  an  a wfu'  peety  he  didna  hear  yon  ;  but 
dear  knows  whar  he  is  the  day,  maist  likely 

Jamie  stopped  suddenly  at  the   sound  of  a 
126 


A    FIGHT   WITH    DEATH 

horse's  feet,  and  there,  coming  down  the 
avenue  of  beech  trees  that  made  a  long  vista 
from  the  kirk  gate,  they  saw  the  doctor  and 
Jess. 

One  thought  flashed  through  the  minds  of 
the  fathers  of  the  commonwealth. 

It  ought  to  be  done  as  he  passed,  and  it 
would  be  done  if  it  were  not  Sabbath.  Of 
course  it  was  out  of  the  question  on  Sabbath. 

The  doctor  is  now  distinctly  visible,  riding 
after  his  fashion. 

There  was  never  such  a  chance,  if  it  were 
only  Saturday;  and  each  man  reads  his  own 
regret  in  his  neighbor's  face. 

The  doctor  is  nearing  them  rapidly;  they 
can  imagine  the  shepherd's  tartan. 

Sabbath  or  no  Sabbath,  the  Glen  cannot  let 
him  pass  without  some  tribute  of  their  pride. 

Jess  had  recognized  friends,  and  the  doctor 
is  drawing  rein. 

"  It  hes  tae  be  dune,"  said  Jamie  desper- 
127 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

ately,  "  say  what   ye  like."      Then    they  all 
looked  towards  him,  and  Jamie  led. 

"  Hurrah,"  swinging  his  Sabbath  hat  in  the 


air,    "  hurrah,"    and    once    more,    "  hurrah," 

Whinnie  Knowe,  Drumsheugh,  and   Hillocks 

128 


A    FIGHT    WITH    DEATH 

joining  lustily,  but  Tammas  Mitchell  carrying 
all  before  him,  for  he  had  found  at  last  an 
expression  for  his  feelings  that  rendered  speech 
unnecessary. 

It  was  a  solitary  experience  for  horse  and 
rider,  and  Jess  bolted  without  delay.  But  the 
sound  followed  and  surrounded  them,  and  as 
they  passed  the  corner  of  the  kirkyard,  a  figure 
waved  his  college  cap  over  the  wall  and  gave 
a  cheer  on  his  own  account. 

"  God  bless  you,  doctor,  and  well  done." 

"  If  it  isna  the  minister,"  cried  Drumsheugh, 
"  in  his  goon  an'  bans ;  tae  think  o'  that ;  but 
a'  respeck  him  for  it." 

Then  Drumtochty  became  self-conscious, 
and  went  home  in  confusion  of  face  and  un 
broken  silence,  except  Jamie  Soutar,  who 
faced  his  neighbors  at  the  parting  of  the  ways 
without  shame. 

"  A'  wud  dae  it  a'  ower  again  if  a'  hed  the 
chance;  he  got  naethin'  but  his  due." 
129 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL   - 

It  was  two  miles  before  Jess  composed  her 
mind,  and  the  doctor  and  she  could  discuss  it 
quietly  together. 

"  A'  can  hardly  believe  ma  ears,  Jess,  an' 
the  Sabbath  tae;  their  verra  jidgment  hes 
gane  frae  the  fouk  o'  Drumtochty. 

"  They've  heard  about  Saunders,  a'm  think- 
in',  wumman,  and  they're  pleased  we  brocht 
him  roond ;  he's  fairly  on  the  mend,  ye  ken, 
noo. 

"  A'  never  expeckit  the  like  o'  this,  though, 
and  it  wes  juist  a  wee  thingie  mair  than  a'  cud 
hae  stude. 

"  Ye  hev  yir  share  in't  tae,  lass  ;  we've  hed 
mony  a  hard  nicht  and  day  thegither,  an'  yon 
wes  oor  reward.  No  mony  men  in  this  warld 
'ill  ever  get  a  better,  for  it  cam  frae  the  hert  o' 
honest  fouk." 


130 


THE   DOCTOR'S    LAST   JOURNEY. 


RUMTOCHTY  had  a  vivid 
recollection  of  the  winter 
when  Dr.  MacLure  was  laid  up 
for  two  months  with  a  broken 
leg,  and  the  Glen  was  depend 
ent  on  the  dubious  ministrations  of  the 
Kildrummie  doctor.  Mrs.  Macfayden  also 
pretended  to  recall  a  "  whup  "  of  some  kind 
or  other  he  had  in  the  fifties,  but  this  was  con 
sidered  to  be  rather  a  pyrotechnic  display  of 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

Elspeth's  superior  memory  than  a  serious 
statement  of  fact.  MacLure  could  not  have 
ridden  through  the  snow  of  forty  winters  with 
out  suffering,  yet  no  one  ever  heard  him  com 
plain,  and  he  never  pled  illness  to  any  mes 
senger  by  night  or  day. 

"It  took  me,"  said  Jamie  Soutar  to  Milton 
afterwards,  "  the  feck  o'  ten  meenuts  tae  howk 
him  'an'  Jess  oot  ae  snawy  nicht  when  Drums 
turned  bad  sudden,  and  if  he  didna  try  to  ex 
cuse  himself  for  no  hearing  me  at  aince  wi' 
some  story  aboot  juist  comin'  in  frae  Glen  Ur- 
tach,  and  no  bein'  in  his  bed  for  the  laist  twa 
nichts. 

"  He  wes  that  carefu'  o'  himsel  an'  lazy 
that  if  it  hedna  been  for  the  siller,  a've  often 
thocht,  Milton,  he  wud  never  hae  dune  a 
handstroke  o'  wark  in  the  Glen. 

"  What  scunnered  me  wes  the  wy  the  bairns 
were  ta'en  in  wi'  him.  Man,  a've  seen  him 
tak  a  wee  laddie  on  his  knee  that  his  ain 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

mither  cudna  quiet,  an'  lilt  '  Sing  a  song  o'  sax- 
pence  '  till  the  bit  mannie  would  be  lauchin' 
like  a  gude  ane,  an'  pooin'  the  doctor's  beard. 


"  As  for  the  weemen,  he  fair  cuist  a  glamour 
ower  them ;  they're  daein'  naethin'  noo  but 
speak  aboot  this  body  and  the  ither  he  curedt 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD    SCHOOL 

an'  hoo  he  aye  bed  a  couthy  word  for  sick 
fouk.  Weemen  hae  nae  discernment,  Milton ; 
tae  hear  them  speak  ye  wud  think  MacLure 
hed  been  a  releegious  man  like  yersel,  al 
though,  as  ye  said,  he  wes  little  mair  than  a 
Gallic. 

"  Bell  Baxter  was  haverin'  awa  in  the  shop 
tae  sic  an  extent  aboot  the  wy  MacLure 
brocht  roond  Saunders  when  he  hed  the  fever 
that  a'  gied  oot  at  the  door,  a'  wes  that  dis 
gusted,  an'  a'm  telt  when  Tammas  Mitchell 
heard  the  news  in  the  smiddy  he  wes  juist  on 
the  greeting. 

"The  smith  said  that  he  wes  thinkin'  o' 
Annie's  tribble,  but  ony  wy  a'  ca'  it  rael  bairnly. 
It's  no  like  Drumtochty ;  ye're  setting  an 
example,  Milton,  wi'  yir  composure.  But  a' 
mind  ye  took  the  doctor's  meesure  as  sune  as 
ye  cam  intae  the  pairish." 

It  is  the  penalty  of  a  4cynic  that  he  must 
have  some  relief  for  his  secret  grief,  and  Mil- 
136 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

ton  began  to  weary  of  life  in  Jamie's  hands 
during  those  days. 

Drumtochty  was  not  observant  in  the  mat 
ter  of  health,  but  they  had  grown  sensitive 
about  Dr.  MacLure,  and  remarked  in  the 
kirkyard  all  summer  that  he  was  failing. 

"  He  wes  aye  spare,"  said  Hillocks,  "  an' 
he's  been  sair  twisted  for  the  laist  twenty  year, 
but  a'  never  mind  him  booed  till  the  year. 
An'  he's  gaein'  intae  sma'  buke  (bulk),  an'  a' 
dinna  like  that,  neeburs. 

"  The  Glen  wudna  dae  weel  withoot  Wee- 
lum  MacLure,  an'  he's  no  as  young  as  he 
wes.  Man,  Drumsheugh,  ye  micht  wile  him 
aff  tae  the  saut  water  atween  the  neeps  and  the 
hairst.  He's  been  workin'  forty  year  for  a 
holiday,  an'  it's  aboot  due." 

Drumsheugh  was  full  of  tact,  and  met  Mac- 
Lure  quite  by  accident  on  the  road. 

"  Saunders  '11  no  need  me  till  the  shearing 
begins,"  he  explained  to  the  doctor,  "  an'  a'm 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

gaein'  tae  Brochty  for  a  turn  o'  the  hot  baths ; 
they're  fine  for  the  rheumatics. 

"  Wull    ye  no   come  wi'  me  for   auld   lang 


syne  ?  it's  lonesome   for  a  solitary  man,  an'  it 
wud  dae  ye  gude." 

"  Na,  na,  Drumsheugh,"  said  MacLure,  who 
138 


THE    DOCTORS   LAST   JOURNEY 

understood  perfectly,  "  a've  dune  a'  thae  years 
withoot  a  break,  an'  a'm  laith  (unwilling)  tae 
be  takin'  holidays  at  the  tail  end. 

"  A'll  no  be  mony  months  wi'  ye  a'  thegither 
noo,  an'  a'm  wanting  tae  spend  a'  the  time  a> 
hev  in  the  Glen.  Ye  see  yersel  that  a'll  sune 
be  getting  ma  lang  rest,  an'  a'll  no  deny  that 
a'm  wearyin'  for  it." 

As  autumn  passed  into  winter,  the  Glen  no 
ticed  that  the  doctor's  hair  had  turned  grey, 
and  that  his  manner  had  lost  all  its  roughness. 
A  feeling  of  secret  gratitude  filled  their  hearts, 
and  they  united  in  a  conspiracy  of  attention. 
Annie  Mitchell  knitted  a  huge  comforter  in  red 
and  white,  which  the  doctor  wore  in  misery 
for  one  whole  day,  out  of  respect  for  Annie,  and 
then  hung  it  in  his  sitting-room  as  a  wall  orna 
ment.  Hillocks  used  to  intercept  him  with 
hot  drinks,  and  one  drifting  day  compelled 
him  to  shelter  till  the  storm  abated.  Flora 
Campbell  brought  a  wonderful  compound  of 
139 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

honey  and  whiskey,  much  tasted  in  Auchin- 
darroch,  for  his  cough,  and  the  mother  of 
young  Burnbrae  filled  his  cupboard  with  black 
jam,  as  a  healing  measure.  Jamie  Soutar 
seemed  to  have  an  endless  series  of  jobs  in  the 
doctor's  direction,  and  looked  in"juist  tae  rest 
himsel  "  in  the  kitchen. 

MacLure  had  been  slowly  taking  in  the  sit 
uation,  and  at  last  he  unburdened  himself  one 
night  to  Jamie. 

"  What  ails  the  fouk,  think  ye  ?  for  they're 
aye  lecturin'  me  noo  tae  tak  care  o'  the  weet 
and  tae  wrap  masel  up,  an'  there's  no  a  week 
but  they're  sendin'  bit  presents  tae  the  house, 
till  a'm  fair  ashamed." 

"  Oo,  a'll  explain  that  in  a  meenut,"  an 
swered  Jamie,  "for  a'  ken  the  Glen  weel.  Ye 
see  they're  juist  tryin'  the  Scripture  plan  o' 
heapin'  coals  o'  fire  on  yer  head. 

"  Here  ye've  been  negleckin'  the  fouk  in 
seeckness  an'  lettin'  them  dee  afore  their 
140 


'TOLD  DKUMSHEUGH  THAT  THE  DOCTOR  WAS  NOT  ABLE  TO  RISS" 
141 


THE    DOCTORS    LAST   JOURNEY 

freends'  eyes  withoot  a  fecht,  an'  refusin'  tae 
gang  tae  a  puir  wumman  in  her  tribble,  an' 
frichtenin'  the  bairns — no,  a'm  no  dune — and 
scourgin'  us  wi'  fees,  and  livin'  yersel'  on  the 
fat  o'  the  land. 

"  Ye've  been  carryin'  on  this  trade  ever  sin 
yir  father  dee'd,  and  the  Glen  didna  notis. 
But  ma  word,  they've  fund  ye  oot  at  laist,  an' 
they're  gaein'  tae  mak  ye  suffer  for  a'  yir  ill 
usage.  Div  ye  understand  noo  ?"  said  Jamie, 
savagely. 

For  a  while  MacLure  was  silent,  and  then 
he  only  said : 

"  It's  little  a'  did  for  the  puir  bodies ;  but 
ye  hev  a  gude  hert,  Jamie,  a  rael  good  hert." 

It  was  a  bitter  December  Sabbath,  and  the 
fathers  were  settling  the  affairs  of  the  parish 
ankle  deep  in  snow,  when  MacLure's  old 
housekeeper  told  Drumsheugh  that  the  doctor 
was  not  able  to  rise,  and  wished  to  see  him  in 
the  afternoon. 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Hillocks,  shaking  his  head, 
and  that  day  Drumsheugh  omitted  four 
pews  with  the  ladle,  while  Jamie  was  so 
vicious  on  the  way  home  that  none  could 
endure  him. 

Janet  had  lit  a  fire  in  the  unused  grate,  and 
hung  a  plaid  by  the  window  to  break  the 
power  of  the  cruel  north  wind,  but  the  bare 
room  with  its  half-a-dozen  bits  of  furniture 
and  a  worn  strip  of  carpet,  and  the  outlook 
upon  the  snow  drifted  up  to  the  second  pane 
of  the  window  and  the  black  firs  laden  with 
their  icy  burden,  sent  a  chill  to  Drumsheugh's 
heart. 

The  doctor  had  weakened  sadly,  and  could 
hardly  lift  his  head,  but  his  face  lit  up  at  the 
sight  of  his  visitor,  and  the  big  hand,  which 
was  now  quite  refined  in  its  whiteness,  came 
out  from  the  bed-clothes  with  the  old  warm 


"  Come  in  by,  man,  and  sit  doon  ;  it's  an 
144 


WITH    THE   OLD    WARM    GRIP  " 


145 


THE    DOCTORS    LAST   JOURNEY 

awfu'  day  tae  bring  ye  sae  far,  but  a'  kent  ye 
wudna  grudge  the  traivel. 

"  A'  wesna  sure  till  last  nicht,  an'  then  a' 
felt  it  wudna  be  lang,  an'  a'  took  a  wearyin' 
this  mornin'  tae  see  ye. 

"  We've  been  friends  sin'  we  were  laddies  at 
the  auld  school  in  the  firs,  an'  a'  wud  like  ye 
tae  be  wi'  me  at  the  end.  Ye  'ill  stay  the 
nicht,  Paitrick,  for  auld  lang  syne." 

Drumsheugh  was  much  shaken,  and  the 
sound  of  the  Christian  name,  which  he  had 
not  heard  since  his  mother's  death,  gave  him 
a  "  grue  "  (shiver),  as  if  one  had  spoken  from 
the  other  world. 

"  It's  maist  awfu'  tae  hear  ye  speakin'  aboot 
deein',  Weelum ;  a'  canna  bear  it.  We  'ill 
hae  the  Mtiirtown  doctor  up,  an'  ye  'ill  be 
aboot  again  in  nae  time. 

"Ye  hevna  ony  sair  tribble;  ye're  juist 
trachled  wi'  hard  wark  an'  needin'  a  rest. 
Dinna  say  ye're  gaein'  tae  leave  us,  Weelum ; 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

we  canna  dae  withoot  ye  in  Drumtochty ;  " 
and  Drumsheugh  looked  wistfully  for  some 
word  of  hope. 

"  Na,  na,  Paitrick,  naethin'  can  be  dune,  an' 
it's  ower  late  tae  send  for  ony  doctor.  There's 
a  knock  that  canna  be  mista'en,  an'  a'  heard  it 
last  night.  A've  focht  deith  for  ither  fouk 
mair  than  forty  year,  but  ma  ain  time  lies 
come  at  laist. 

"  A've  nae  tribble  worth  mentionin' — a  bit 
titch  o'  bronchitis — an'  a've  hed  a  graund  con 
stitution;  but  a'm  fair  worn  oot,  Paitrick; 
that's  ma  complaint,  an'  its  past  curin'." 

Drumsheugh  went  over  to  the  fireplace, 
and  for  a  while  did  nothing  but  break  up  the 
smouldering  peats,  whose  smoke  powerfully 
affected  his  nose  and  eyes. 

"  When  ye're  ready,  Paitrick,  there's  twa  or 
three  little  trokes  a'  wud  like  ye  tae  look 
aifter,  an'  a'll  tell  ye  aboot  them  as  lang's  ma 
head's  clear. 

148 


DRUMSHEUGH   LOOKED  WISTFULLY  ' 


149 


THE    DOCTORS    LAST   JOURNEY 

"  A'  didna  keep  buiks,  as  ye  ken,  for  a'  aye 
hed  a  guid  memory,  so  naebody  'ill  be  har 
ried  for  money  aifter  ma  deith,  and  ye  'ill  hae 
nae  accoonts  tae  collect. 

"  But  the  fouk  are  honest  in  Drumtochty, 
and  they  'ill  be  offerin'  ye  siller,  an'  a'll  gie  ye 
ma  mind  aboot  it.  Gin  it  be  a  puir  body,  tell 
her  tae  keep  it  and  get  a  bit  plaidie  wi'  the 
money,  and  she  'ill  maybe  think  o'  her  auld 
doctor  at  a  time.  Gin  it  be  a  bien  (well-to- 
do)  man,  tak  half  of  what  he  offers,  for  a 
Drumtochty  man  wud  scorn  to  be  mean  in  sic 
circumstances  ;  and  if  onybody  needs  a  doctor 
an'  canna  pay  for  him,  see  he's  no  left  tae  dee 
when  a'm  oot  o'  the  road." 

"  Nae  fear  o'  that  as  lang  as  a'm  livin',  Wee- 
lum ;  that  hundred's  still  tae  the  fore,  ye  ken, 
an'  a'll  tak  care  it's  weel  spent. 

"  Yon  wes  the  best  job  we  ever  did  thegith- 
er,  an'  dookin'  Saunders,  ye  'ill  no  forget  that 
nicht,  Weelum  " — a  gleam  came  into  the  doc- 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

tor's  eyes — "  tae  say  neathin'  o'  the  Highlan' 
fling." 

The  remembrance  of  that  great  victory  came 
upon  Drumsheugh,  and  tried  his  fortitude. 

"  What  'ill  become  o's  when  ye' re  no  here 
tae  gie  a  hand  in  time  o'  need  ?  we  'ill  tak  ill 
wi'  a  stranger  that  disna  ken  ane  o's  frae  an- 
ither." 

"  It's  a'  for  the  best,  Paitrick,  an'  ye  'ill  see 
that  in  a  whilie.  A've  kent  fine  that  ma  day 
wes  ower,  an'  that  ye  sud  hae  a  younger  man. 

"  A'  did  what  a'  cud  tae  keep  up  wi'  the 
new  medicine,  but  a'  hed  little  time  for  readin', 
an'  nane  for  traivellin'. 

"  A'm  the  last  o'  the  auld  schule,  an'  a'  ken 
as  weel  as  onybody  thet  a'  wesna  sae  dainty 
an'  fine-mannered  as  the  town  doctors.  Ye 
took  me  as  a'  wes,  an'  naebody  ever  cuist  up 
tae  me  that  a'  wes  a  plain  man.  Na,  na ;  ye've 
been  rael  kind  an'  conseederate  a'  thae  years." 

"  Weelum,  gin  ye  cairry  on  sic  nonsense  ony 
152 


THE    DOCTORS    LAST    JOURNEY 

langer,"  interrupted  Drumsheugh,  huskily,  "a'll 
leave  the  hoose ;  a'  canna  stand  it." 

"  It's  the  truth,  Paitrick,  but  we  'ill  gae  on 
wi'  our  wark,  far  a'm  failin'  fast. 

"  Gie  Janet  ony  sticks  of  furniture  she  needs 
tae  furnish  a  hoose,  and  sell  a'  thing  else  tae 
pay  the  wricht  (undertaker)  an'  bedrel  (grave- 
digger).  If  the  new  doctor  be  a  young  laddie 
and  no  verra  rich,  ye  micht  let  him  hae  the 
buiks  an'  instruments ;  it  'ill  aye  be  a  help. 

"  But  a'  wudna  like  ye  tae  sell  Jess,  for 
she's  been  a  faithfu'  servant,  an'  a  freend  tae. 
There's  a  note  or  twa  in  that  drawer  a'  savit, 
an'  if  ye  kent  ony  man  that  wud  gie  her  a  bite 
o'  grass  and  a  sta'  in  his  stable  till  she  followed 
her  maister — ' 

"  Confoond  ye,  Weelum,"  broke  out  Drums 
heugh  ;  "  its  doonricht  cruel  o'  ye  to  speak 
like  this  tae  me.  Whar  wud  Jess  gang  but 
tae  Drumsheugh  ?  she  'ill  hae  her  run  o'  heck 
an'  manger  sae  lang  as  she  lives ;  the  Glen 
'S3 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 


wudna  like  tae  see  anither  man  on  Jess,  and 
nae    man    'ill    ever   touch    the   auld   mare." 


"  Dinna  mind  me,  Pai trick,  for  a*  expeckit 
this ;  but  ye  ken  we're  no  verra  gleg  wi'  oor 


THE    DOCTORS    LAST   JOURNEY 

tongues  in  Drumtochty,  an'  dinna  tell  a'  that's 
in  oor  hearts. 

"  Weel,  that's  a'  that  a'  mind,  an'  the  rest  a' 
leave  tae  yersel'.  A've  neither  kith  nor  kin 
tae  bury  me,  sae  you  an'  the  neeburs  'ill  need 
tae  lat  me  doon ;  but  gin  Tammas  Mitchell  or 
Saunders  be  stannin'  near  and  lookin'  as  if 
they  wud  like  a  cord,  gie't  tae  them,  Paitrick. 
They're  baith  dour  chiels,  and  haena  muckle 
tae  say,  but  Tammas  hes  a  graund  hert,  and 
there's  waur  fouk  in  the  Glen  than  Saunders. 

"  A'm  gettin'  drowsy,  an'  a'll  no  be  able  tae 
follow  ye  sune,  a'  doot ;  wud  yc  read  a  bit  tae 
me  afore  a'  fa'  ower  ? 

"  Ye  'ill  find  ma  mither's  Bible  on  the 
drawers'  heid,  but  ye  'ill  need  tae  come  close 
tae  'the  bed,  for  a'm  no  hearin'  or  seein'  sae 
weel  as  a'  wes  when  ye  cam." 

Drumsheugh  put  on  his  spectacles  and 
searched  for  a  comfortable  Scripture,  while  the 
light  of  the  lamp  fell  on  his  shaking  hands  and 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

the  doctor's  face  where  the  shadow  was  now 
settling. 

"  Ma  mither   aye  wantit  this    read  tae  her 
when  she  wes  sober  "(weak),  and  Drumsheugh 


began,  "  In  My  Father's  house  are  many  man 
sions,"  but  MacLure  stopped  him. 

"  It's  a  bonnie  word,  an'  yir  mither  wes  a 
sanct;  but  it's  no  for  the  likeo'  me.  It's  ower 
gude ;  a'  daurna  tak  it. 

"  Shut  the  buik  an'  let  it  open  itsel,  an'  ye 
156 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

'ill  get  a  bit  a've  been  readin'  every  nicht  the 
laist  month." 

Then  Drumsheugh  found  the  Parable  where 
in  the  Master  tells  us  what  God  thinks  of  a 
Pharisee  and  of  a  penitent  sinner,  till  he  came 
to  the  words  :  "  And  the  publican,  standing 
afar  off,  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes 
to  heaven,  but  smote  upon  his  breast,  saying, 
God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 

"  That  micht  hae  been  written  for  me,  Pait- 
rick,  or  ony  ither  auld  sinner  that  hes  feen- 
ished  his  life,  an'  hes  naethin'  tae  say  for  him- 
sel'. 

"  It  wesna  easy  for  me  tae  get  tae  kirk,  but 
a'  cud  hae  managed  wi'  a  stretch,  an'  a'  used 
langidge  a'  sudna,  an'  a'  micht  hae  been  gen 
tler,  and  not  been  so  short  in  the  temper.  A' 
see't  a'  noo. 

"  It's  ower  late  tae  mend,  but  ye  'ill  maybe 
juist  say  to  the  fouk  that  I  wes  sorry,  an'  a'm 
houpin'  that  the  Almichty  'ill  hae  mercy  on  me. 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Cud  ye  ...  pit  up  a  bit  prayer,  Paitrick?" 

"  A'  haena  the  words,"  said  Drumsheugh  in 
great  distress  ;  "  wud  ye  like's  tae  send  for  the 
minister  ?  " 

"  It's  no  the  time  for  that  noo,  an'  a'  wud 
rather  hae  yersel ' — juist  what's  in  yir  heart, 
Paitrick :  the  Almichty  'ill  ken  the  lave  (rest) 
Himsel'." 

So  Drumsheugh  knelt  and  prayed  with 
many  pauses. 

"  Almichty  God  .  .  .  dinna  be  hard  on  Wee- 
lum  MacLure,  for  he's  no  been  hard  wi'  ony- 
body  in  Drumtochty.  ...  Be  kind  tae  him  as 
he's  been  tae  us  a'  for  forty  year.  .  .  .  We're 
a'  sinners  afore  Thee.  .  .  .  Forgive  him  what 
he's  dune  wrang,  an'  dinna  cuist  it  up  tae  him. 
.  .  .  Mind  the  fouk  he's  helpit  .  .  .  the  wee- 
men  an'  bairnies  ...  an'  gie  him  a  welcome 
hame,  for  he's  sair  needin't  after  a'  his  wark. 
.  .  .  Amen." 

"  Thank  ye,  Paitrick,  and  gude  nicht  tae  ye. 
158 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

Ma  ain  true  freend,  gie's  yir  hand,  for  all 
maybe  no  ken  ye  again. 

"  Noo  a'll  say  ma  mither's  prayer  and  hae 
a  sleep,  but  ye  'ill  no  leave  me  till  a'  is  ower." 

Then  he  repeated  as  he  had  done  every 
night  of  his  life  : 

"  This  night  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep. 
And  if  I  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

He  was  sleeping  quietly  when  the  wind 
drove  the  snow  against  the  window  with  a 
sudden  "  swish  ; "  and  he  instantly  awoke,  so 
to  say,  in  his  sleep.  Some  one  needed  him. 

"  Are  ye  frae  Glen  Urtach  ? "  and  an  un 
heard  voice  seemed  to  have  answered  him. 

"  Worse  is  she,  an'  suffering  awfu' ;  that's 
no  lichtsome ;  ye  did  richt  tae  come. 

"  The  front  door's  drifted  up  ;  gang  roond 
tae  the  back,  an'  ye  'ill  get  intae  the  kitchen  ; 
a'll  be  ready  in  a  meenut. 
'59 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Gie's  a  hand  wi'  the  lantern  when  a'm 
saidling  Jess,  an'  ye  needna  come  on 
till  daylicht;  a'  ken  the  road." 


Then  he  was  away  in  his  sleep  on  some 
errand  of  mercy,  and  struggling  through  the 
storm. 

160 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

"  It's  a  coorse  nicht,  Jess,  an'  heavy  traivel- 
lin' ;  can  ye  see  afore  ye,  lass  ?  for  a'm  clean 
confused  wi'  the  snaw ;  bide  a  wee  till  a'  find 
the  diveesion  o'  the  roads ;  it's  aboot  here 
back  or  forrit. 

"  Steady,  lass,  steady,  dinna  plunge  ;  i'ts  a 
drift  we're  in,  but  ye're  no  sinkin' ;  ...  up 
noo ;  .  .  .  there  ye  are  on  the  road  again. 

"  Eh,  it's  deep  the  nicht,  an'  hard  on  us 
baith,  but  there's  a  puir  wumman  micht  dee  if 
we  didna  warstle  through;  .  .  .  that's  it;  ye 
ken  fine  what  a'm  say  in/ 

"We  'ill  hae  tae  leave  the  road  here,  an' 
tak  tae  the  muir.  Sandie  'ill  no  can  leave  the 
wife  alane  tae  meet  us  ;  ...  feel  for  yersel" 
lass,  and  keep  oot  o'  the  holes. 

"  Yon's  the  hoose  black  in  the  snaw.  San- 
die  !  man,  ye  frichtened  us ;  a'  didna  see  ye 
ahint  the  dyke ;  hoos  the  wife  ?  " 

After  a  while  he  began  again  : 

"  Ye're  fair  dune,  Jess,  and  so  a'  am  maseF ; 
161 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

we're  baith  gettin'  auld,  an'  dinna  ta'k  sae  weel 
wi'  the  nicht  wark. 

"  We  'ill  sune  be  hame  noo ;  this  is  the 
black  wood,  and  it's  no  lang  aifter  that ;  we're 
ready  for  oor  beds,  Jess ;  ...  ay,  ye  like  a  clap 
at  a  time ;  mony  a  mile  we've  gaed  hegither. 

"  Yon's  the  licht  in  the  kitchen  window ; 
nae  wonder  ye're  nickering  (neighing) ;  .  .  . 
it's  been  a  stiff  journey ;  a'm  tired,  lass  .  .  . 
a'm  tired  tae  deith,"  and  the  voice  died  into 
silence. 

Drumsheugh  held  his  friend's  hand,  which 
now  and  again  tightened  in  his,  and  as  he 
watched,  a  change  came  over  the  face  on  the 
pillow  beside  him.  The  lines  of  weariness 
disappeared,  as  if  God's  hand  had  passed  over 
it ;  and  peace  began  to  gather  round  the 
closed  eyes. 

The  doctor  has  forgotten  the  toil  of  later 
years,  and  has  gone  back  to  his  boyhood. 

"  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want," 
162 


"SHE'S  CAKKYIN'  A  LIGHT  IN  HER  HAND' 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

he  repeated,  till  he  came  to  the  last  verse,  and 
then  he  hesitated. 

"  Goodness  and  mercy  all  my  life 
Shall  surely  follow  me. 

"  Follow  me  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  what's 
next  ?  Mither  said  I  wes  tae  haed  ready  when 
she  cam. 

"  '  All  come  afore  ye  gang  tae  sleep,  Wullie, 
but  ye  'ill  no  get  yir  kiss  unless  ye  can  feenish 
the  psalm.' 

"  And  ...  in  God's  house  ...  for  ever 
more  my  .  .  .  hoo  dis  it  rin  ?  a  canna  mind 
the  next  word  .  .  .  my,  my 

"  It's  ower  dark  noo  tae  read  it,  an'  mither 
'ill  sune  be  comin.' ' 

Drumsheugh,  in  an  agony,  whispered  into 
his  ear,  "  '  My  dwelling-place,'  Weelum." 

"  That's  it,  that's  it  a'  noo ;  wha  said  it  ? 

"  And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

"  A'm  ready  noo,  an'  a'll  get  ma  kiss  when 
165 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

mither  comes ;  a'  wish  she  vvud  come,  for  a'm 
tired  an'  wantin'  tae  sleep. 

"  Yon's  her  step  . "  .  .  an'  she's  carry-in'  a 
licht  in  her  hand  ;  a'  see  it  through  the  door. 

"  Mither  !  a'  kent  ye  wudna  forget  yir  lad 
die  for  ye  promised  tae  come,  and  a've  feen- 
ished  ma  psalm. 

"And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

"  Gie  me  the  kiss,  mither,  for  a've  been  wait- 
in'  for  ye,  an'  a'll  sune  be  asleep." 

The  grey  morning  light  fell  on  Drums- 
heugh,  still  holding  his  friend's  cold  hand,  and 
staring  at  a  hearth  where  the  fire  had  died 
down  into  white  ashes  ;  but  the  peace  on  the 
doctor's  face  was  of  one  who  rested  from  his 
labours. 


166 


THE   MOURNING   OF   THE   GLEN. 


THE  T^PUI^NING 


R.  MAcLURE  was   buried 
during    the    great    snow 
storm    which  is  still  spoken  of, 
and  will  remain  the  standard  of 
snowfall  in   Drumtochty  for  the 
century.     The  snow  was  deep  on   the   Mon 
day,  and    the   men    that    gave   notice  of  his 
funeral    had    hard    work    to    reach    the    doc 
tor's  distant  patients.     On  Tuesday  morning 
it  began  to  fall  again   in  heavy,  fleecy  flakes, 
169 


A    DOCTOR    OF    THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

and  continued  till  Thursday,  and  then  on 
Thursday  the  north  wind  rose  and  swept  the 
snow  into  the  hollows  of  the  roads  that  went 
to  the  upland  farms,  and  built  it  into  a  huge 
bank  at  the  mouth  of  Glen  Urtach,  and  laid  it 
across  our  main  roads  in  drifts  of  every  size 
and  the  most  lovely  shapes,  and  filled  up  crev 
ices  in  the  hills  to  the  depth  of  fifty  feet. 

On  Friday  morning  the  wind  had  sunk  to 
passing  gusts  that  powdered  your  coat  with 
white,  and  the  sun  was  shining  on  one  of 
those  winter  landscapes  no  townsman  can  im 
agine  and  no  countryman  ever  forgets.  The 
Glen,  from  end  to  end  and  side  to  side,  was 
clothed  in  a  glistering  mantle  white  as  no  fuller 
on  earth  could  white  it,  that  flung  its  skirts 
over  the  clumps  of  trees  and  scattered  farm 
houses,  and  was  only  divided  where  the 
Tochty  ran  with  black,  swollen  stream.  The 
great  moor  rose  and  fell  in  swelling  billows  of 
snow  that  arched  themselves  over  the  burns, 
170 


THE    MOURNING    OF    THE    GLEN 

running  deep  in   the  mossy  ground,  and  hid 
the  black  peat  bogs  with  a  thin,  treacherous 


crust.     Beyond,  the  hills  northwards  and  west 
wards  stood  high  in  white  majesty,  save  where 
the  black  crags  of  Glen  Urtach  broke  the  line, 
171 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

and,  above  our  lower  Grampians,  we  caught 
glimpses  of  the  distant  peaks  that  lifted  their 
heads  in  holiness  unto  God. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  fitting  day  for  William 
MacLure's  funeral,  rather  than  summer  time, 
with  its  flowers  and  golden  corn.  He  had  not 
been  a  soft  man,  nor  had  he  lived  an  easy  life, 
and  now  he  was  to  be  laid  to  rest  amid  the 
austere  majesty  of  winter,  yet  in  the  shining 
of  the  sun.  Jamie  Soutar,  with  whom  I  toiled 
across  the  Glen,  did  not  think  with  me,  but 
was  gravely  concerned. 

"  Nae  doot  it's  a  graund  sicht ;  the  like  o't 
is  no  gien  tae  us  twice  in  a  generation,  an'  nae 
king  wes  ever  carried  tae  his  tomb  in  sic  a 
cathedral. 

"  But  it's  the  fouk  a'm  conseederin',  an'  hoo 
they'll  win  through  ;  it's  hard  eneuch  for  them 
'at's  on  the  road,  an'  it's  clean  impossible  for 
the  lave. 

"  They  'ill  dae  their  best,  every  man  o'  them, 
172 


TOILED  ACROSS  THE  GLEN' 


173 


THE    MOURNING    OF    THE    GLEN 

ye  may  depend  on  that,  an'  bed  it  been  open 
weather  there  wudna  hev  been  six  able-bodied 
men  missin'. 

"  A'  wes  mad  at  them,  because  they  never 
said  onything  when  he  wes  leevin',  but  they 
felt  for  a'  that  what  he  hed  dune,  an',  a'  think, 
he  kent  it  afore  he  deed. 

"  He  hed  juist  ae  faut,  tae  ma  thinkin',  for  a' 
never  jidged  the  waur  o'  him  for  his  titch  of 
rochness — guid  trees  hae  gnarled  bark — but 
he  thotched  ower  little  o'  himsel'. 

"  Noo,  gin  a'  hed  asked  him  hoo  mony  fouk 
wud  come  tae  his  beerial,  he  wud  hae  said, 
(  They  'ill  be  Drumsheugh  an'  yersel',  an'  may 
be  twa  or  three  neeburs  besides  the  minister/ 
an'  the  fact  is  that  nae  man  in  oor  time  wud 
hae  sic  a  githerin'  if  it  werena  for  the  storm. 

*'  Ye  see,"  said  Jamie,  who  had  been  count 
ing  heads  all  morning,  "  there's  six  shepherds 
in  Glen  Urtaeh — they're  shut  up  fast ;  an'  there 
micht  hae  been  a  gude  half  dizen  frae  Dun- 
'75 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

leith  wy,  an'   a'm    telt    there's  nae  road;  an' 


there's   the   heich 
Glen,     nae     man 
cud    cross    the 
muir  the  day,  an' 
it's     audit      mile 
round;"      and 
Jamie  proceeded  to  review  the  Glen  in  every 
detail  of  age,  driftiness  of  road  and  strength  of 
176 


'ANE  OF  THEM  GIED  OWER  THE  HEAD  IN  A  DRIFT,  AND  HIS  NEEBUKS 
HAD  TAE  PU'  HIM  GOT,' 


177 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

body,  till  we  arrived  at  the  doctor's  cottage, 
when  he  had  settled  on  a  reduction  of  fifty 
through  stress  of  weather. 

Drumsheugh  was  acknowledged  as  chief 
mourner  by  the  Glen,  and  received  us  at  the 
gate  with  a  labored  attempt  at  everyday  man 
ners. 

"Ye've  hed  heavy  traivellin',  a'  doot,  an' 
ye  'ill  be  cauld.  It's  hard  weather  for  the 
sheep  an'  a'm  thinkin'  this  ill  be  a  feeding 
storm. 

"  There  wes  nae  use  trying  tae  dig  oot  the 
front  door  yestreen,  for  it  wud  hae  been  drifted 
up  again  before  morning.  We've  cleared  awa 
the  snow  at  the  back  for  the  prayer ;  ye  'ill 
get  in  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"  There's  a  puckle  Dunleith  men " 

"  Wha  ?"  cried  Jamie  in  an  instant. 

"  Dunleith  men,"  said  Drumsheugh. 

"  Div  ye  mean  they're  here,  whar  are  they  ?" 

"  Drying  themsels  at  the  fire,  an'  no  with- 
179 


A    DOCTOR    OF   THE    OLD    SCHOOL 

oot  need;  ane  of  them  gied  ower  the  head 
in  a  drift,  and  his  neeburs  hed  tae  pu'  him 
oot. 

"  It  took  them  a  gude  fower  oors  tae  get 
across,  an'  it  wes  coorse  wark ;  they  likit  him 
weel  doon  that  wy,  an',  Jamie,  man  " — here 
Drumsheugh's  voice  changed  its  note,  and  his 
public  manner  disappeared — "  what  div  ye 
think  o'  this  ?  every  man  o'  them  has  on  his 
blacks." 

"  It's  mair  than  cud  be  expeckit "  said 
Jamie;  "but  whar  dae  yon  men  come  frae, 
Drumsheugh  ?" 

Two  men  in  plaids  were  descending  the  hill 
behind  the  doctor's  cottage,  taking  three  feet 
at  a  stride,  and  carrying  long  staffs  in  their 
hands. 

"  They're  Glen  Urtach  men,  Jamie,  for  ane 
o'  them  wes  at  Kildrummie  fair  wi'  sheep,  but 
hoo  they've  wun  doon  passes  me." 

"  It  canna  be,    Drumsheugh,"  said   Jamie 
180 


"  TWO   MEN   IN   PLAIDS   WERE  DESCENDING  THE  HILL  : 


181 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

greatly  excited.    "  Glen  Urtach's  steikit  up  wi' 
sna  like  a  locked  door. 

"  Ye're  no  surely  frae  the  Glen,  lads  ?"  as 
the  men  leaped  the  dyke  and  crossed  to  the 
back  door,  the  snow  falling  from  their  plaids 
as  they  walked. 

"  We're  that  an'  nae  mistak,  but  a'  thocht 
we  wud  be  lickit  ae  place,  eh,  Charlie  ?  a'm  no 
sae  weel  acquant  wi'  the  hill  on  this  side,  an' 
there  wes  some  kittle  (hazardous)  drifts." 

"  It  wes  grand  o'  ye  tae  mak  the  attempt," 
said  Drumsheugh,  "  an'  a'm  gled  ye're  safe." 

"  He  cam  through  as  bad  ^himseP  tae  help 
ma  wife,"  was  Charlie's  reply. 

"They're  three  mair  Urtach  shepherds  'ill 
come  in  by  sune ;  they're  frae  Upper  Urtach 
an'  we  saw  them  fording  the  river ;  ma  certes 
it  took  them  a'  their  time,  for  it  wes  up  tae 
their  waists  and  rinnin'  like  a  mill  lade,  but 
they  jined  hands  and  cam  ower  fine."  And 
the  Urtach  men  went  in  to  the  fire. 
183 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

The  Glen  began  to  arrive  in  twos  and  threes, 
and  Jamie,  from  a  point  of  vantage  at  the  gate, 
and  under  an  appearance  of  utter  indifference, 
checked  his  roll  till  even  he  was  satisfied. 


"  Weelum  MacLure  'ill  hae  the  beerial  he 
deserves  in  spite  o'  sna  and  drifts ;  it  passes  a' 
tae  see  hoo  they've  githered  frae  far  an'  near. 

"  A'm  thinkin'  ye  can  colleck  them  for  the 
minister  noo,  Drumsheugh.  A'body's  here 
184 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

except  the  heich  Glen,  an'  we  mauna  luke  for 
them." 

"  Dinna  be  sae  sure  o'  that,  Jamie.  Yon's 
terrible  like  them  on  the  road,  wi'  Whinnie  at 
their  head ;"  and  so  it  was,  twelve  in  all,  only 
old  Adam  Ross  absent,  detained  by  force,  be 
ing  eighty-two  years  of  age. 

"  It  wud  hae  been  temptin'  Providence  tae 
cross  the  muir,"  Whinnie  explained,  "and  it's 
a  fell  stap  roond ;  a'  doot  we're  laist." 

"  See,  Jamie,"  said  Drumsheugh,  as  he  went 
to  the  house,  "  gin  there  be  ony  antern  body 
in  sicht  afore  we  begin  ;  we  maun  mak  alloo- 
ances  the  day  wi'  twa  feet  o'  sna  on  the  grund, 
tae  say  naethin'  o'  drifts." 

"  There's  something  at  the  turnin',  an'  it's 
no  fouk ;  it's  a  machine  o'  some  kind  or  ither 
— maybe  a  bread  cart  that's  focht  its  wy  up." 

"  Na,  it's  no  that ;  there's  twa  horses,  ane 
afore  the  ither ;  if  it's  no  a  dogcairt  wi'  twa  men 
in  the  front ;  they  'ill  be  comin'  tae  the  beerial." 
185 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  What  wud  ye  sae,  Jamie,"  Hillocks  sug 
gested,  "  but  it  micht  be  some  o'  thae  Muir- 
town  doctors?  they  were  awfu'  chief  wi' Mac- 
Lure." 

"  It's  nae  Muirtown  doctors,"  cried  Jamie, 
in  great  exultation,  "  nor  ony  ither  doctors. 
A'  ken  thae  horses,  and  wha's  ahind  them. 
Quick,  man,  Hillocks,  stop  the  fouk,  and  tell 
Drumsheugh  tae  come  oot,  for  Lord  Kilspindie 
hes  come  up  frae  Muirtown  Castle." 

Jamie  himself  slipped  behind,  and  did  not 
wish  to  be  seen. 

"  It's  the  respeck  he's  gettin'  the  day  frae 
high  an'  low,"  was  Jamie's  husky  apology  ; 
"  tae  think  o'  them  fetchin'  their  wy  doon  frae 
Glen  Urtach,  and  toiling  roond  frae  the  heich 
Glen,  an'  his  Lordship  driving  through  the 
drifts  a'  the  road  frae  Muirtown,  juist  tae  hon 
our  Weelum  MacLure's  beerial. 

"  It's  nae  ceremony  the  day,  ye  may  lippen 
tae  it ;  it's  the  hert  brocht  the  fouk,  an'  ye 
186 


"TWA  UOKSES,  AXE  AFORE  THE  ITHEK" 


I87 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

can  see  it  in  their  faces ;  ilka  man  hes  his  ain 
reason,  an'  he's  thinkin'  on't  though  he's 
speakin'  o'  naethin'  but  the  storm  ;  he's  mindin' 
the  day  Weelum  pued  him  out  frae  the  jaws 
o'  death,  or  the  nicht  he  savit  the  gude  wife 
in  her  oor  o'  tribble. 

"  That's  why  they  pit  on  their  blacks  this 
mornin'  afore  it  wes  licht,  and  wrastled  through 
the  sna  drifts  at  risk  o'  life.  Drumtochty  fouk 
canna  say  muckle,  it's  an  awfu'  peety,  and  they 
'ill  dae  their  best  tae  show  naethin',  but  a'  can 
read  it  a'  in  their  een. 

"  But  wae's  me  " — and  Jamie  broke  down 
utterly  behind  a  fir  tree,  so  tender  a  thing  is  a 
cynic's  heart — "  that  fouk  'ill  tak  a  man's  best 
wark  a'  his  days  without  a  word  an'  no  dae 
him  honour  till  he  dees.  Oh,  if  they  hed  only 
githered  like  this  juist  aince  when  he  wes 
livin',  an'  lat  him  see  he  hedna  laboured  in 
vain.  His  reward  has  come  ower  late". 

During  Jamie's  vain  regret,  the  castle  trap, 
189 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

bearing  the  marks  of  a  wild  passage  in  the 
snow-covered  wheels,  a  broken  shaft  tied  with 
rope,  a  twisted  lamp,  and  the  panting  horses, 
pulled  up  between  two  rows  of  farmers,  and 
Drumsheugh  received  his  lordship  with  evi 
dent  emotion. 

"  Ma  lord  ....  we  never  thocht  o'  this 
....  an'  sic  a  road." 

"  How  are  you,  Drumsheugh  ?  and  how  are 
you  all  this  wintry  day  ?  That's  how  I'm 
half  an  hour  late ;  it  took  us  four  hours'  stiff 
work  for  sixteen  miles,  mostly  in  the  drifts,  of 
course." 

"  It  wes  gude  o'  yir  lordship,  tae  mak  sic  an 
effort,  an'  the  hale  Glen  wull  be  gratefu'  tae 
ye,  for  ony  kindness  tae  him  is  kindness  tae  us." 

"  You  make  too  much  of  it,  Drumsheugh," 
and  the  clear,  firm  voice  was  heard  of  all ;  "  it 
would  have  taken  more  than  a  few  snow  drifts 
to  keep  me  from  showing  my  respect  to  Will 
iam  MacLure's  memory." 
190 


"HE  HAD  LEFT  HIS  OVERCOAT  AND  WAS  IN  BLACK" 


THE    MOURNING    OF   THE    GLEN 

When  all  had  gathered  in  a  half  circle  be 
fore  the  kitchen  door,  Lord  Kilspindie  came 
out — every  man  noticed  he  had  left  his  over 
coat,  and  was  in  black,  like  the  Glen — and 
took  a  place  in  the  middle  with  Drumsheugh 
and  Burnbrae,  his  two  chief  tenants,  on  the 
right  and  left,  and  as  the  minister  appeared 
every  man  bared  his  head. 

The  doctor  looked  on  the  company — a  hun 
dred  men  such  as  for  strength  and  gravity  you 
could  hardly  have  matched  in  Scotland — 
standing  out  in  picturesque  relief  against  the 
white  background,  and  he  said : 

"  It's  a  bitter  day,  friends,  and  some  of  you 
are  old;  perhaps  it  might  be  wise  to  cover 
your  heads  before  I  begin  to  pray." 

Lord  Kilspindie,  standing  erect  and 
grey-headed  between  the  two  old  men, 
replied : 

"  We  thank  you,  Dr.  Davidson,  for  your 
thoughtfulness  ;  but  he  endured  many  a  storm 
193 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

in  our  service,  and  we  are  not  afraid  of  a 
few  minutes'  cold  at  his  funeral." 

A  look  flashed  round  the  stern  faces,  and 
was  reflected  from  the  minister,  who  seemed 
to  stand  higher. 

His  prayer,  we  noticed  with  critical  appre 
ciation,  was  composed  for  the  occasion,  and  the 
first  part  was  a  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the 
life  work  of  our  doctor,  wherein  each  clause 
was  a  reference  to  his  services  and  sacrifices. 
No  one  moved  or  said  Amen — it  had  been 
strange  with  us — but  when  every  man  had 
heard  the  gratitude  of  his  dumb  heart  offered 
to  heaven,  there  was  a  great  sigh. 

After  which  the  minister  prayed  that  we 
might  have  grace  to  live  as  this  man  had  done 
from  youth  to  old  age,  not  for  himself,  but  for 
others,  and  that  we  might  be  followed  to  our 
grave  by  somewhat  of  "  that  love  wherewith  we 
mourn  this  day  Thy  servant  departed."  Again 
the  same  sigh,  and  the  minister  said  Amen. 
194 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

The  "  wricht  "  stood  in  the  doorway  without 
speaking,  and  four  stalwart  men  came  forward. 
They  were  the  volunteers  that  would  lift  the 
coffin  and  carry  it  for  the  first  stage.  One  was 
Tammas,  Annie  Mitchell's  man;  and  another 
was  Saunders  Baxter,  for  whose  life  MacLure 
had  his  great  fight  with  death ;  and  the  third 
was  the  Glen  Urtach  shepherd  for  whose  wife's 
sake  MacLure  suffered  a  broken  leg  and  three 
fractured  ribs  in  a  drift ;  and  the  fourth,  a 
Dunleith  man,  had  his  own  reasons  of  remem 
brance. 

"  He's  far  lichter  than  ye  wud  expeck  for  sae 
big  a  man — there  wesna  muckle  left  o'  him, 
ye  see — but  the  road  is  heavy,  and  a'il  change- 
ye  aifter  the  first  half  mile." 

"  Ye  needna  tribble  yersel,  wricht,"  said  the 
man  from  Glen  Urtach ;  "  the'll  be  nae  change 
in  the  cairryin'  the  day,"  and  Tammas  was 
thankful  some  one  had  saved  him  speaking. 

Surely  no  funeral  is  like  unto  that  of  a  doc- 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

tor  for  pathos,  and  a  peculiar  sadness  fell  on 
that  company  as  his  body  was  carried  out  who 
for  nearly  half  a  century  had  been  their  help 
in  sickness,  and  had  beaten  back  death  time 
after  time  from  their  door.  Death  after  all 
was  victor,  for  the  man  that  had  saved  them 
had  not  been  able  to  save  himself. 

As  the  coffin  passed  the  stable  door  a  horse 
nieghed  within,  and  every  man  looked  at  his 
neighbour.  It  was  his  old  mare  crying  to  her 
master. 

Jamie  slipped  into  the  stable,  and  went  up 
into  the  stall. 

"Puir  lass,  ye're  no  gaen'  wi'  him  the  day, 
an'  ye  'ill  never  see  him  again ;  ye've  hed  yir 
last  ride  thegither,  an'  ye  were  true  tae  the 
end." 

After  the  funeral  Drumsheugh  came  him 
self  for  Jess,  and  took  her  to  his  farm.  Saun- 
ders  made  a  bed  for  her  with  soft,  dry  straw, 
and  prepared  for  her  supper  such  things  as 
196 


DEATH    AFTER   ALL   WAS  VICTOR 


197 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

horses  love.  Jess  would  neither  take  food  nor 
rest,  but  moved  uneasily  in  her  stall,  and 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some  one  that  never 
came.  No  man  knows  what  a  horse  or  a  dog 


understands  and  feels,  for  God  hath  not  given 
them  our  speech.  If  any  footstep  was  heard 
in  the  courtyard,  she  began  to  neigh,  and  was 
always  looking  round  as  the  door  opened. 
But  nothing  would  tempt  her  to  eat,  and  in 
199 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

the  night-time  Drumsheugh  heard  her  crying 
as  if  she  expected  to  be  taken  out  for  some 
sudden  journey.  The  Kildrummie  veterinary 
came  to  see  her,  and  said  that  nothing  could 
be  done  when  it  happened  after  this  fashion 
with  an  old  horse. 

"A've  seen  it  aince  afore,"  he  said.  "Gin 
she  were  a  Christian  instead  o'  a  horse,  ye 
micht  say  she  wes  dying  o'  a  broken  hert." 

He  recommended  that  she  should  be  shot 
to  end  her  misery,  but  no  man  could  be  found 
in  the  Glen  to  do  the  deed  and  Jess  relieved 
them  of  the  trouble.  When  Drumsheugh 
went  to  the  stable  on  Monday  morning,  a 
week  after  Dr.  MacLure  fell  on  sleep,  Jess  was 
resting  at  last,  but  her  eyes  were  open  and  her 
face  turned  to  the  door. 

"She  wes  a'  the  wife  he  hed,"  said  Jamie, 
as  he  rejoined  the  procession,  "  an'  they  luved 
ane  anither  weel." 

The  black  thread  wound  itself  along  the 
200 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

whiteness  of  the  Glen,  the  coffin  first,  with  his 
lordship  and  Drumsheugh  behind,  and  the 
others  as  they  pleased,  but  in  closer  ranks  than 
usual,  because  the  snow  on  either  side  was 
deep,  and  because  this  was  not  as  other  funer 
als.  They  could  see  the  women  standing  at 
the  door  of  every  house  on  the  hillside,  and 
weeping,  for  each  family  had  some  good  reason 
in  forty  years  to  remember  MacLure.  When 
Bell  Baxter  saw  Saunders  alive,  and  the  coffin 
of  the  doctor  that  saved  him  on  her  man's 
shoulder,  she  bowed  her  head  on  the  dyke, 
and  the  bairns  in  the  village  made  such  a  wail 
for  him  they  loved  that  the  men  nearly  dis 
graced  themselves. 

"  A'm  gled  we're  through  that,  at  ony  rate," 
said  Hillocks ;  "  he  wes  awfu'  taen  up  wi'  the 
bairns,  conseederin'  he  hed  nane  o'  his  ain." 

There  was  only  one  drift  on  the  road  be 
tween  his  cottage  and  the  kirkyard,  and  it  had 
been  cut  early  that  morning. 

201 


A    DOCTOR   OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

Before  daybreak  Saunders  had  roused  the 
lads  in  the  bothy,  and  they  had  set  to  work  by 
the  light  of  lanterns  with  such  good  will  that, 
when  Drumsheugh  came  down  to  engineer  a 
circuit  for  the  funeral,  there  was  a  fair  passage, 


with  walls  of  snow  twelve  feet  high  on  either 
side. 

"  Man,  Saunders,"  he  said,  "  this  wes  a  kind 
thocht,  and  rael  weel  dune." 

But  Saunders'  only  reply  was  this : 

202 


"  STANDING  AT  THE   DOOR 
203 


THE   MOURNING   OF   THE    GLEN 

"  Mony  a  time  he's  hed  tae  gang  round ;  he 
micht  as  weel  hae  an  open  road  for  his  last 
traivel." 

When  the  coffin  was  laid  down  at  the  mouth 
of  the  grave,  the  only  blackness  in  the  white 
kirkyard,  Tammas  Mitchell  did  the  most  beau 
tiful  thing  in  all  his  life.  He  knelt  down  and 
carefully  wiped  off  the  snow  the  wind  had 
blown  upon  the  coffin,  and  which  had  covered 
the  name,  and  when  he  had  done  this  he  dis 
appeared  behind  the  others,  so  that  Drums- 
heugh  could  hardly  find  him  to  take  a  cord. 
For  these  were  the  eight  that  buried  Dr.  Mac- 
Lure — Lord  Kilspindie  at  the  head  as  landlord 
and  Drumsheugh  at  his  feet  as  his  friend ;  the 
two  ministers  of  the  parish  came  first  on  the 
right  and  left ;  then  Burnbrae  and  Hillocks  of 
the  farmers,  and  Saunders  and  Tammas  for  the 
plowmen.  So  the  Glen  he  loved  laid  him  to 
rest. 

When  the  bedrel  had  finished  his  work  and 
205 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

the  turf  had    been    spread,  Lord    Kilspindie 
spoke : 

"  Friends  of  Drumtochty,  it  would  not  be 
right  that  we  should  part  in  silence  and  no 
man  say  what  is  in  every  heart.  We  have 
buried  the  remains  of  one  that  served  this 
Glen  with  a  devotion  that  has  known  no  re 
serve,  and  a  kindliness  that  never  failed,  for 
more  than  forty  years.  I  have  seen  many 
brave  men  in  my  day,  but  no  man  in  the 
trenches  of  Sebastopol  carried  himself  more 
knightly  than  William  MacLure.  You  will 
never  have  heard  from  his  lips  what  I  may 
tell  you  to-day,  that  my  father  secured  for  him 
a  valuable  post  in  his  younger  days,  and  he 
preferred  to  work  among  his  own  people ;  and 
I  wished  to  do  many  things  for  him  when  he 
was  old,  but  he  would  have  nothing  for  him 
self.  He  will  never  be  forgotten  while  one  of 
us  lives,  and  I  pray  that  all  doctors  every 
where  may  share  his  spirit.  If  it  be  your 
206 


THE    MOURNING   OF   THE   GLEN 

pleasure,  I  shall  erect  a  cross  above  his  grave, 
and  shall  ask  my  old  friend  and  companion 
Dr.  Davidson,  your  minister,  to  choose  the 
text  to  be  inscribed." 

"  We  thank  you,  Lord  Kilspindie,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  for  your  presence  with  us  in  our  sor 
row  and  your  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Wil 
liam  MacLure,  and  I  choose  this  for  his  text : 

" '  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that 
a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends.'  " 

Milton  was,  at  that  time,  held  in  the  bonds 
of  a  very  bitter  theology,  and  his  indignation 
was  stirred  by  this  unqualified  eulogium. 

"  No  doubt  Dr.  MacLure  hed  mony  natural 
virtues,  an'  he  did  his  wark  weel,  but  it  wes  a 
peety  he  didna  mak  mair  profession  o'  relee- 
gion." 

"  When  William  MacLure   appears    before 

the  Judge,  Milton,"  said  Lachlan    Campbell, 

who  that  day  spoke  his  last  words  in  public, 

and  they  were  in  defence  of  charity,  "He  will 

207 


A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

not  be  asking  him  about  his  professions,  for 
the  doctor's  judgment  hass  been  ready  long 
ago  ;  and  it  iss  a  good  judgment,  and  you  and  I 
will  be  happy  men  if  we  get  the  like  of  it. 

"  It  is  written  in  the  Gospel,  but  it  iss  Wil 
liam  MacLure  that  will  not  be  expecting  it.'' 

"  What  is't  Lachlan  ?  "  asked  Jamie  Soutar 
eagerly. 

The  old  man,  now  very  feeble,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  his  face,  once  so  hard, 
was  softened  into  a  winsome  tenderness. 

" '  Come,  ye  blessed  of  My  Father  ...  I 
was  sick  and  ye  visited  Me.'  " 


208 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-8,'66(G5530s4)458 


II 


N°  454969 


Watson,   J. 

A  doctor  of  the  old 
school. 


PR5742 
D6 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


